


Knowing Yourself

by NotoriousHistoryNerd



Category: Timeless (TV 2016)
Genre: All the Secrets, And he will get what he deserves in this fic, Bunker family in full swing, Bunker parents, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Trauma, F/M, Fix-it fic, Future Lucy and Wyatt, Garcia Flynn Deserved Better, Garcia Flynn and Lucy Preston, Garcia is a protective dumpster fire as usual, Garcy endgame, Gen, Human Disaster Garcia Flynn, Lucy has been through so much, Lucy's lineage will be too, Lyatt but strictly friendship, Not Canon Compliant - s02e11-12 The Miracle of Christmas (Timeless), Or my version of the movie, Poor Lucy, Post-Season 2 (Timeless), Rittenhouse, Rittenhouse (Timeless), Screw the finale, She deserves everything, The journal is revealed, The movie was trash, Time Travel, Timeless Finale Movie Fix-It, all the action, garcy, my take on season 3, whatever
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-06-28 10:42:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,249
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15705609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotoriousHistoryNerd/pseuds/NotoriousHistoryNerd
Summary: A look at what unfolded after the upgraded lifeboat showed up in the bunker, and we finally learn what happened to Lucy during those six weeks with Rittenhouse...Will the time team find a way to stop Emma and destroy Rittenhouse once and for all? And if so, at what cost? (Post Season 2)





	1. A Second Chance

**Author's Note:**

> This will eventually evolve into a multi-chapter story, and I may change the rating once we get into later chapters. We will see what happens ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Also this is my first fanfic so please go easy on me.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Future-Lucy and Wyatt explode into the bunker, and have a lot of questions to answer before explaining how they intend on saving Rufus

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry (late) Christmas clock blockers. I know I wasn't the only one who was dissatisfied with the finale that was allegedly written for the fans, and really it wasn't all about the ships. I felt that much of the character development from season two concerning all characters was kind of thrown out the window in an effort to give us a rushed, poorly paced finale that tried to tie up ever story line in a neat little bow. I thought Emma's death was underwhelming, I thought Jessica's callousness wasn't convincing after her heartfelt exchange with Wyatt in Chinatown (along with the fact that she chose not to kill the team when she could have), and I thought Flynn's death and the reasoning behind it was heartbreaking and also made no rational sense since there were other ways to save Rufus. He's my favorite character, along with Lucy, and the way they ended his story broke my heart, because we all know that Garcia Flynn deserved better. I didn't like how everything Lucy and Garcia shared over the passed two seasons was suddenly permeated with Wyatt (the journal, Sao Paolo, etc), it just felt wrong and like everything special about their connection was being swept under the rug. I also thought that the way Rittenhouse acted in the finale was totally uncharacteristic and kind of a let down, since we all know that Emma is brilliant and wouldn't have been undone so easily, and I didn't really buy the whole Benjamin Cahill is suddenly good trope.
> 
> So, anyway, if you find yourself agreeing with any of the flaws that I have just pointed out, you may like this story. I originally wrote some of this story before the series finale aired, and after watching it, I felt inspired to go back and slightly reshape this story to fit into the narrative of a fix it fic, as well as my version of what a season three might have looked like. Or even just a better version of the movie, whatever suits your fancy. 
> 
> With that said, if you have read this story before my latest update, you may want to reread it from the beginning since the two latest chapters are prequels to the three I originally posted, and my three original chapters have been ever so slightly altered/added to. 
> 
> Enjoy!

The shock was incalculable. And somehow that was still an understatement.

She just couldn’t stop staring at them. At herself. At the other her?

All Lucy could think about was how disorienting it was to be simultaneously experiencing déja vu and self-disassociation all at once. Like all the perks of an out of body experience without actually leaving her body. If you could call them perks. It was all she could do not to pass out on the spot, but even startled as she was she would rather die before succumbing to a dramatic bout of fainting in front of the team. Damsel in distress stereotypes be damned, especially in the face of this battle-worn, soldier-like, take no prisoners version of herself.

Wyatt looked just as shell shocked as she did, and she figured he must have been experiencing the same sense of alienation she was given the way his mouth was hanging open, words utterly escaping him.

Standing there, glancing down at them with what could either be apprehension or contempt based on their grim faces, were a future Lucy and Wyatt. Two pairs of the same people, facing off. The moment seemed to stretch into infinity.

Finally, Future-Wyatt spoke, bearded scruff and all. “Well, what’re you waitin’ on?”

Then, with the timbre of her voice just as hollow as her eyes, Future-Lucy added, “You guys wanna get Rufus back or what?”

Lucy’s voice quavered as she peered up at herself. “That’s-”

“Us.” Wyatt finished, sounding just as stunned as she was. As if maybe saying it out loud would somehow make sense of the inconceivable.

For one interminable moment, nobody spoke.

And then all hell broke loose.

“How is this possible?” Agent Christopher asked as the future duo unceremoniously slid down from the lifeboat hatch, landing more or less gracefully before being converged on by the team.

“Where are you from?” 

“ _When_ are you from?” Lucy added, looking like she wanted to reach out and touch her future self, but was also worried that it might cause a major schism in the fabric of reality. Not that she ever really pretended to understand the rules of time travel to begin with.

“Who piloted the lifeboat here?” Connor questioned.

“And where is everybody else?” Flynn jumped in too.

“Jesus, one question at a time.” Future-Wyatt protested.

“We’re from 2023.” Future-Lucy stated, answering herself before the questions could continue to pile up. “Wyatt piloted the lifeboat, and everyone else is…back in our bunker.” She finished, a slight air of hesitancy to her final words that did nothing to ease all of their nerves. But no one was sure they really wanted to know who was still alive and who wasn’t down the timeline. Future-Lucy looked relieved that she wasn’t asked to elaborate.

“How are you even here? In your own timelines, there’s side effects-” Connor started rambling.

“We’re not immune to the effects.” She admitted.

“We don’t have much time.” Future-Wyatt told her.

“I know.” Future-Lucy replied shortly. The dynamic between them seemed…tense, to put it lightly. Or maybe even more than that, they seemed disconnected, like their relationship was a radio station that had been muted for who knows how long. There was the distant crackling of static, but nothing more, and Lucy couldn’t help but wonder not only what had happened to their two reflections, but what had happened between them, especially given what Wyatt had just admitted to her not five minutes earlier.

Connor couldn’t help but continue to look utterly incredulous. “Why would you endanger yourselves like this?”

“We didn’t have much of a choice.” Future-Wyatt said.

“We can’t stop Rittenhouse without Rufus.” Future Lucy asserted, Rufus’ name reverberating off the walls like the distant echo of a ghost.

“Rittenhouse still exists?” Denise asked, sounding vaguely horrified.

“In 2023?” Flynn added, just as aghast as she was.

“Wait. You said we can get Rufus back?” Jiya’s ragged voice rang out above all others and the commotion ceased almost as quickly as it began. Eyes red rimmed and brimming with fresh tears, she seemed to sense that everybody was eyeing her with poorly concealed trepidation and pity but couldn’t bring herself to care. They could bear witness to her grief all they wanted if it meant they were one step closer to saving Rufus. They’d all seen each other at their worst anyway, what was one more moment of raw vulnerability?

Future Lucy’s eyes softened a fraction as they turned on her, briefly igniting the spark in her brown eyes which seemed nearly extinguished in this hardened version of herself. She slowly approached Jiya before gently taking her hand and pulling her into a quick but comforting embrace, and Jiya was unexpectedly finding herself glad that after all this war had and would apparently do to Lucy in the future, she still gave the best hugs. Although, Jiya had a feeling that Future-Lucy needed this kind of support just as much as she did.

“Our plan isn’t 100% foolproof.” Future-Lucy warned, pulling away. “But the short answer is yes, Jiya. We think we can save him.”

Jiya suddenly had that look on her face. The one where she so desperately wanted to allow herself to believe but didn’t know if she could withstand the pain of false hope.

Evidently, she must have decided it was worth the risk. She took a deep steadying breath, as if preparing for the coming storm.

“How?” Jiya asked plaintively, giving herself over to hope with reckless abandon that she hoped would not be the death of her if they failed. Belatedly, she wondered if this is what Flynn had felt like every time he had come close to saving his family. She winced at the thought, sneaking a glance at him from the other side of the room. As always, his losses weighed heavy, but right now he looked completely transfixed by Future-Lucy, and she couldn’t help but wonder what exactly was going on _there_.

“The plan itself is pretty straightforward.” Future-Lucy explained. “To put it simply, we’re here to give you a Chinatown do over.”

Jiya’s mouth gaped open, along with everyone else’s. “You can do that?”

“To give credit where credit is due, you can do that.” Future-Wyatt clarified, nodding at her appreciatively. “This is all your plan Jiya.”

Jiya, understandably, looked caught between total shock and appreciation of the fact that her future self-had literally figured out how to bend space time in order to bring Rufus back from the dead. But her surprise was fleeting. Because if there was anything she was sure of by now, it was that she loved Rufus with her whole and entire being. She would and had done everything she could to keep him safe. To keep him alive, even if it meant her life would continue on without him in it. This was no exception.

“Not to toot my own horn, but I sound like a badass.” She declared casually.

Future-Lucy snorted, and then for a brief moment looked genuinely surprised, as if she had forgotten what her own laugh sounded like. And though her face quickly settled back into an implacable mask, it wasn’t a reaction that went unnoticed.

“So, what exactly would a Chinatown do-over entail?” Denise inquired, strategical as ever. She had seemed to get over the sheer impossibility of their situation quite a bit faster than everyone else, but maybe that’s what Homeland Security training was for; assess the situation and move on. Her turnaround time was truly something to marvel at, even for them.

“There’s two main elements of the plan.” Future Wyatt said, his inner Delta Force emerging as he laid out the course of action. “The first order of business is obviously to save Rufus. We do that by making sure that he never goes to the Bison Horn Saloon in the first place.”

“And how do we do that?” Wyatt asked. His future-self looked at him irritably.

“Honestly, was I always this dense?” Future-Wyatt asked his Lucy. She just shrugged, but a small smile quirked at the corner of her mouth, and Wyatt promptly shut his mouth. Apparently even his future self wasn’t too happy with him. His self-loathing had literally reached its ultimate capacity.

Future-Wyatt barreled on. “Someone will have to intercept Rufus between the time that he leaves Lucy at the photo studio and arrives to find Jiya.”

“How do we know that he’ll go with us?” Lucy wondered.

“Because I’ll be there to drag him back to the lifeboat myself.” Jiya assured, a little coarser than she intended. “He’ll see me, and he’ll know that I’m okay. That should be enough proof for him.”

“It will be.” Future-Lucy agreed.

“Then what?” Flynn questioned, looking like this all might be too good to be true. Lucy couldn’t help but feel inclined to agree.

“This is the harder part.” Future-Wyatt sighed.

“Right, because nothing about time travel can ever be easy.” His present counterpart muttered, crossing his arms.

“Harder, how?” Jiya could already feel her confidence starting to dim as she prepared herself for whatever insurmountable challenge she’d have to overcome this time.

“The hardest part,” Future Lucy explained. “Is going to be convincing our alternate selves to leave.”

Everyone looked vaguely confused. Wyatt was the first to ask what they were all thinking. “That’s the big, hopeless snag in your plan? That we won’t want to go home?”

To the future couple’s surprise, it was Connor who piped up on their behalf, a look of comprehension settling into his features. “Think about it. If Jiya’s past self doesn’t see Rufus with the team when they come to rescue her and nobody knows where he is, do you really think she would be willing to leave without him?”

“It was already hard enough to convince you to go when he _was_ with us.” Flynn grumbled, which garnered him some dirty looks, but he didn’t seem to mind. Not that he ever did.

“He’s not wrong.” Connor said after a short pause, trying to be delicate. “And if your past selves refuse to leave, then there’s a chance that they could be cornered by Emma and, I don’t know, killed?”

The seriousness of that possibility seemed to settle over them as they mulled over what it would mean for their alternate selves to die on that saloon porch just like Rufus had. Alone, neglected, and forgotten.

“If we get this wrong, then this, us, our reality could all disappear.” Lucy said quietly.

But by now Jiya was determined. The promise of a plan, even a flawed one, was too tempting to turn away from. “So, we have to send one of us back to the alternate team before they reach me at the saloon and convince them to leave without Rufus.”

“Exactly. If they decide to stick around and look for him, there’s no telling what could happen, or who we could lose instead.” Future-Wyatt concluded.

“Something tells me there’s more to it than that, though.” Connor said faintly. Being on a similar train of thought herself, Lucy could feel the beginnings of dread starting to pool in the pit of her stomach. It all sounded so simple. So tantalizingly and truthfully easy. But if there was anything these last two years had taught her, it was that something always came with a price.

She fixed her future self with a knowing look. “So, what’s the catch?”

Future-Lucy’s face was slightly pained, but not in the least surprised. “You’re always looking for one, aren’t you?”

Lucy didn’t waver, taking a small step closer to herself. “After what we’ve been through? Yes.”

Something about looking at a physical, living, breathing copy of herself managed to throw her off balance in a way she never could have anticipated, seeing all that raw pain written all over her face was a picture unlike anything she’d ever seen in any mirror. She almost found herself asking, do I really look so broken?

But she supposed she’d have to wait five years to find out just how much more broken she could be. What a thing to look forward to.

Lucy cleared her throat. “So?” She prompted again. “What are you holding back?”

Words weren’t typically something that failed her in any given situation, but for once her future-self looked like she was at a loss. That was comforting.

Sensing her unease, Future-Wyatt took over. “The catch,” He began, his voice heavy and resigned, “Is that someone will inevitably have to cross their own timeline twice.”

Silence. Fraught with tension, confusion, and, most poignantly from all of them, the ache of grief.

Denise didn’t follow, the overly-complex and frankly frustrating rules of physics and space-time continuum crap always going over her head. “What do you mean?”

But Lucy seemed to have already caught on. “He means that either me, Wyatt, or Flynn has to go back and warn our alternate self, and run the risk of enduring the crazy, time-travel related consequences.”

“What are the risks?” Flynn asked uncertainly. Even he seemed spooked for once, and that was a high bar to clear.

“More like what risks _aren’t_ there.” Connor snapped.

“We don’t know” Future-Lucy answered honestly, rejoining the conversation. “There’s really no way to know for sure. We took a risk in coming here at all. We can’t predict how much those dangers would increase if the action was repeated.”

“The point is-” Future-Wyatt started to speak when suddenly Future-Lucy clutched the side of her head and doubled over, wincing in pain and gasping for air.

Lucy’s eyes went wide. “What’s wrong? What’s happening? Is she okay? Am I okay?” The words tumbled out in a rush, but that didn’t diminish the peculiarity intrinsic to asking herself how she was doing.

 _Man, we live weird lives_. Her own words echoed strangely in her mind.

“Side effects.” Future-Wyatt grunted before slipping his arm around his Lucy’s shoulders and holding her steady. She nearly jumped out of her skin the moment that Future-Wyatt’s fingers brushed across Future-Lucy’s arms, almost as if she could distantly feel the memory of that sensation herself. A memory she hadn’t yet lived. It was jarring to say the least and she couldn’t help but shiver, especially since the two of them hardly ever touched anymore in their present reality. The thought of it suddenly made her sad.

“You can feel it can’t you.” Future Lucy rasped, voice somewhat labored and ragged as she took a few deep breaths to regain her composure before straightening out of Future-Wyatt’s hold, who let her go gently but reluctantly. “You can feel what I feel.”

Not trusting herself to speak, Lucy solemnly nodded.

“Just…don’t get too close to us, I guess.” Future-Wyatt instructed, taking a small step back from the Lucy and Wyatt staring back at him. Neither of the younger versions was inclined to disagree.

“The theory is as long as you don’t touch the alternate version of yourself, you should be relatively safe.” Future-Lucy explained tiredly.

“Relatively?” Lucy echoed faintly.

“I guess we can add explosive migraines and linked sensory input to the Wed MD file under time travel related side effects for future doppelgangers.” Jiya said dryly, stubbornly suppressing the urge to chuckle. She knew it sounded like something Rufus would say but couldn’t bring herself to laugh if he wasn’t there with her. At least not yet.

“So, in other words, there will be three of me running around, and that may or may not make the universe, or us, implode. Peachy.” Wyatt scowled.

Future-Wyatt’s eyes hardened as he gave himself a look that clearly said _check your sass_ , but didn’t deign to say anything out loud.

Present-Lucy, along with both soldiers, looked a shade or two paler at the implication, but they didn’t shy away either. Like before they knew the risks and accepted them willingly, without hesitation.

“This is like folding a piece of paper twice, slicing a hole through it, and then trying to put it back together again the same way.” Connor griped. “No big deal.”

“Well why can’t Connor or Denise go?” Jiya asked impatiently.

Connor looked somewhat uncomfortable at that suggestion, as he hadn’t travelled since his brief interlope in 1930’s Texas where he became the latest member of the team to take another person’s life, a memory that continued to haunt him even if it had been a sweet-faced trigger-happy Rittenhouse sleeper. But even with that and his inherent cowardice towards time travelling in general, he also looked like he wouldn’t back down if it was asked of him to go. He would do anything to get Rufus back, anything. It was his thoughtless, reckless inventions that started all this in the first place, so he figured it only fair that he help them make it right.

Meanwhile, Denise didn’t even flinch. She wasn’t offended by the proposal. Quite the opposite in fact; she had secretly always wanted an excuse to time travel.

“They can’t.” Future Lucy shook her head, and Denise fought the urge to sigh at being duped out of her first trip yet again. Meanwhile Connor looked ashamed at his own relief. “Neither of them were there the first time around, so they wouldn’t know where to go. Plus, we need two soldiers on this mission. One to protect Jiya and one to warn the team.”

“I lived in the 1880’s for three years, alone. I can protect myself.” Jiya spat, nearly startled by the unintentionally venomous quality of her own voice, but the future pair only looked at her with understanding.

“We know you can take care of yourself, Jiya.” Future-Lucy said gently. “But you’re their only pilot, and if something happens to you then Rittenhouse wins, and it’s all over.”

To that, Jiya had nothing to say. She couldn’t decide if she was angrier at the fact that she was being coddled because she was an asset, or the fact that Future-Lucy was right. This was bigger than Jiya’s newly developed tough girl, go it alone persona who had learned not to need anyone else in her life. This was about taking down Rittenhouse, as it always had been and should be, and she was an integral part of it.

But more than that, it was about saving Rufus. Protecting their family, and they couldn’t continue to do that without her, or without him. Even after three years, she was still no likely match for a highly trained Rittenhouse operative in the field. It wasn’t worth the unnecessary risk.

“You’re right.” She managed, eyes downcast. “And putting up a fight about it won’t help get Rufus back.”

But even with that neatly resolved, a loose thread still hung in the air. Or, to be more accurate, the unaddressed elephant in the room let out a mighty roar in the following quiet as the last order of business came to the forefront.

“So, how do we decide who goes with me?” Jiya was the one to finally ask the question on all their minds, her voice small and tentative, closer to the Jiya she had once been.

The three of them looked at each other, Flynn, Lucy, and Wyatt, eyes locked and faces taut as that single question relentlessly bounced between them like an incessant pin ball. It was not lost on any of them how ironic it was that the end all be all should come down to them three, to the awkward and silently acknowledged triangle that had formed between the three of them with Lucy at its center. Whatever connections lie there between her and the two men, however broken, damaged, or not fully realized, they were still there all the same. They all knew they were willing to go and would all argue for why it should be them. It was just a matter of who made their case first.

And as it happened, Wyatt beat both Lucy and Flynn to the punch, but seemed to have no intention on hearing a rebuttal from either of them.

“There is no decision. Not for anybody else, anyway. I’m going. We are both going.” Wyatt stated firmly, gesturing to his bearded counterpart. His future self’s expression was unreadable, but he made no move to object.

“Like hell you are.” Lucy had to keep herself from shouting as she marched over to Wyatt, wanting to knock a shred of sense into him.

“Wouldn’t both versions of you going just increase the risk of some irreparable rip in the fabric of reality?” Flynn asked lazily. Even with his indifferent tone, Wyatt was shocked to hear any challenge from the other man at all, considering strained didn’t even begin to sum up their tense relationship. But then, looking at the abject fear in Lucy’s eyes, he could see that Flynn was only concerned because of what his death might do to Lucy, and he didn’t know whether to feel touched or pained.

In the end, Wyatt settled on being grateful that there was someone looking out for her, and someone who had been looking out for her since the day Wyatt brought a Rittenhouse sleeper into the bunker.

“What if something happens to the two of you, and we just end up trading you for Rufus?” Lucy’s voice trembled. After all he had done, to her and to the team, she still had the impossible capacity to care about him unconditionally, and he knew then and there that he had never deserved this woman. That the whole world would probably never deserve nor know all of the pure compassion and love stored in the damaged but ever beating heart of Lucy Preston.

“I’m willing to take that risk.” Wyatt replied, steadfast and uncompromising. He had to hurt her to heal her, the most unforgivable irony of all.

“But I’m not.” Lucy nearly sobbed, her throat tightening with unshed tears. “I can’t lose anyone else.”

He wanted so badly to reach out and take her into his arms, to pull her close and assure her that everything would be fine, but he knew that it wasn’t a guarantee he could realistically make. More than that, he knew that he had forfeited the privilege to touch her that way long ago. Jessica’s absence (or betrayal, to be more precise), didn’t mean that the two of them could suddenly return to the same place they had been that fateful night in Hollywood, 1941. After everything, he wasn’t sure they would ever be able to recapture that dream-like moment. But he did know that initiating intimate physical contact less than 48 hours after his wife defected to Rittenhouse was not the first step toward rebuilding their fragile relationship. So, he settled on taking her hand and pretended not to notice when Flynn’s eyes politely drifted away.

Wyatt’s voice was soft. “Lucy, let me do this. Let me give Rufus back to Jiya, and to you, and I promise I’ll do my best to bring myself back safely too.”

She wavered uncertainly, but still wasn’t convinced. “But why do you have to go alone?”

She nearly corrected herself and had the hysteric impulse to laugh when she realized she’d implied that the two of him going together would be going alone, but laughter would not come to her lips. Not when his life was on the line.

“Why can’t I go with you? Or Flynn or…her.” Lucy indicated her future self with a slight nod of her head. But much like Wyatt’s future counterpart, Future-Lucy made no move to interfere. It seemed their mission had been to deliver the message and offer their help but play no role in deciding how things would play out or who would sacrifice who. Maybe they had learned enough from doing that in the past already, and decided they wanted no part in the responsibility of choosing who would take the ultimate risk this time around. Lucy could hardly blame them.

“Because this is my fault Lucy!” He shouted angrily but regretted it when her hand flinched in his grasp. He struggled to carefully contain the inner rage which was all directed at himself. “None of this would have ever happened if I hadn’t brought Jessica into the bunker. Nobody else should have to go back and clean up that mess but me. Flynn is injured, you’re not combat-trained, and she…”

Wyatt raised his head to meet the eyes of Future Lucy, who’s brown gaze looked stormy and forlorn, but intrigued all the same, and maybe even hopeful. And it was the cautious hope in her eyes, a tentative faith in him, that made Wyatt resolute in his choice.

“She’s been through enough.” He determined, eyes flicking between both Lucys. The fragile and the hardened, the present and the future, but both just as broken. “She’s been through enough, and so have you.”

His words stunned Lucy into silence, along with everyone else. But it was very telling when no one offered any further protest. She simply grabbed onto his hand that much tighter, and in her periphery she thought she could see their future counterparts doing the same. She was glad that if nothing else Wyatt finally understood her. Understood that after all she had been subjected to, his loss was the final blow that nearly threatened to push her over the edge, just like Rittenhouse had intended. It had forced her to put back what was left of her shattered heart together alone. Well, almost alone anyway, she thought casting a quick glance across the room at Flynn. He was pointedly not looking in her general direction, but she could see the pinched look on his face, the grieving ache in his green eyes. It was one of the few times that she could recall seeing his heart so completely exposed on his sleeve, all because he thought no one was paying attention to see it, but he was wrong. He looked as if he was resigning himself to the inevitability of Wyatt and Lucy, and like he had been a fool for ever thinking there was room for him in her life.

And she was struck with the sudden urge to tell him otherwise, but what exactly she would tell him she had no idea. Ironically, she needed more time. And for someone in her line of work she always seemed to be running out of it.

Turning her attention back to Wyatt, she saw the knowing look in his eyes, and was struck by the idea that he seemed to know more about what was going on in her head than she did. He was reading her like a book and she couldn’t even bring herself to mind. God, she would always love this man in her heart of hearts. This reckless, impossible, well-intentioned, noble man who had filled her heart and then broken it all in one fell swoop. But something between them had changed. Where there had been romance and magnetism there now remained compassion, affection, and maybe even the shaky foundations of a long-lost trust coming back to her. Things were far from mended between them to be sure, but this selfless gesture felt like the first step in something new, and it took her breath away.

“Let me do this for you.” He repeated tenderly. “For everyone. Please.”

She stared at him for a long moment, as if trying to memorize the lines of his face, the feeling of his fingers entwined with hers. It could have been seconds or minutes, Wyatt couldn’t have cared to know the difference as her soft brown eyes bored into his own, but eventually a small watery smile tugged at her lips, and he knew what her answer was.

“Okay.” She relented, before fiercely adding. “Just bring yourself back safely.”

She realized her mistake as she saw the smirk spread across his face. “Yes ma’am.”

But she could hardly call it a mistake since it was the first thing that day that had managed to bring a smile, even a small one, to her face. The world suddenly seemed a little brighter if the two of them were able to fall back into old patterns like that, even if things between them were no longer exactly the same.

“Why do I feel like we’ve been left out of some massive private joke.” Denise asked suddenly, looking utterly lost.

“It’s their thing.” Jiya clarified.

Wyatt and Lucy heads snapped up in unison, playfully glaring at her. Well, Lucy’s wide-eyed blush was definitely more playful than Wyatt’s outright glowering, anyway.

She just shrugged in response. “Rufus told me.”

And just like that, the lighthearted moment was gone, Rufus’ absence a constant reminder of the task at hand. The mission was set, the soldiers had volunteered, and they had a pilot to save.

Clearing his throat as he began to move away from Future-Lucy, Future-Wyatt refocused the conversation. “There isn’t any time to lose. Go change back into your Chinatown garb.” He instructed his past self. “The less time we have to waste stealing clothes the better. You too Jiya.”

The programmer briefly looked like she might be sick at the idea of dawning the dress that she knew was still stained with Rufus’ blood, but offered no protest as she turned and marched out of the silo to her room.

All too soon the unlikely trio of Jiya, Wyatt, and Future-Wyatt were clambering into the upgraded lifeboat one by one, each taking a last fateful glance over their shoulder as they weren’t entirely certain what they would be coming back to, or who would be making it back at all. The remaining members of the team, Future-Lucy included, stood at the perimeter of the hanger and solemnly waved them off as the metal rings began to grind and spin before the machine disappeared with a flash and a gust of wind.

Lucy realized that it was the very first instance that she had ever actually watched the lifeboat take off, and felt an odd sense of estrangement from the machine that had carried her through time for the past two years, like she was seeing anew. She also knew that this was one of the few jumps where she wouldn’t be along for the trip, but unlike Wyatt’s joyride to the 1980’s this time they would be coming back to a different reality. Lucy’s memories of the events of Chinatown would be altered, and she didn’t know whether to be apprehensive or relieved. Would she feel the change as her memories shifted? Would she be aware of it at all, or would her recollections instantaneously reset the moment the lifeboat popped back into the bunker? It happened to Denise and Connor every time the team had jumped in the past, so clearly it couldn’t be all that bad, but she just couldn’t seem to wrap her head around it without letting her anxiety get the better of her. Some things, like Carol and Rufus’ death, she would rather forget. But others, like her emotional breakdown in the alleyway with Flynn, she wasn’t sure she was willing to surrender…

Later, long after the upgraded lifeboat had departed with Jiya and both Wyatts in tow, Lucy found herself sitting alone in the kitchen waiting for the moment that history would change, feeling far too restless and constrained to stay cooped up in one of the bedrooms. Her head was about to explode from the unsolvable, circular questions she kept asking herself, and she was about to go seek out a certain ex-terrorist’s company when none other than Future-Lucy took a seat at the table across from herself.

“Um, hi.” Lucy said, characteristically awkward as ever. “What’s up?”

Future-Lucy smirked good naturedly. “Two PhD’s and that’s the best you’ve got? Gosh, I forgot how truly eloquent we are sometimes.”

Lucy snorted indignantly. “Well it’s not like anyone can really prepare you for meeting some future Tomb Raider version of yourself.”

Future-Lucy rolled her eyes. “Rufus was right, you really do watch too much bad TV.”

“That one’s from a movie, actually.” Lucy corrected soberly, Rufus’ infectious smile flashing in her mind. “I miss him.”

The older Lucy’s face darkened with heartache. “Believe me, I’ve lived five years without him.” She whispered despondently. “I know.”

Looking at this woman, at all the anguish and cyclical grief she was apparently destined to endure, Lucy had never been more terrified for her future in her life. Not even the prospect of a future with Rittenhouse had scared her this much, because she knew she could and would fight back. But this, this just seemed like the inevitable. After all, how could there be a way out if her future was already literally staring her in the face?

Predictably, Future-Lucy seemed to know exactly what her past self was thinking. She also knew exactly what she needed to say.

Her future reflection waited a beat before asking, “Where is everybody?”

Lucy hastily wiped away tears she hadn’t realized were forming in her eyes. “Denise needed to handle some business with Homeland Security, Connor took a bottle of rum to his room, and Flynn is…somewhere around here. Why do you ask?” She finished, glancing around nervously before she remembered who she was talking to. There were no facades that needed to be erected here. Everything she felt the other had already experienced, and the constant reminder of that was enough to make Lucy’s head spin.

“I wanted to talk to you alone.” Future Lucy explained, as she reached around her waist and fumbled through the pack hanging on the back of her belt. “There’s something I need to give you.”

“What is it?” Lucy asked anxiously as an endless stream of possibilities flitted through her mind. Although in retrospect, she should have been expecting this hand off all along.

Before she could let her imagination get the best of her Future-Lucy finally grasped what she was looking for, withdrew it from her pouch and carefully placed it on the table top before sliding it over to Lucy.

There it was, all ruffled and dog-eared pages, loopy handwriting, black leather binding, and her initials outlined in conspicuous gold lettering on the bottom righthand corner. It looked exactly like she remembered, even if she hadn’t yet written it.

After all this time, future-Lucy had just given her the journal.


	2. Spoken Confessions and Silent Promises

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wyatt's future self gives him a much needed pep talk, Wyatt makes a painful but necessary admission to Flynn, and Jiya sees the man who stubbornly refused to read the Klingon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is long, but I think it's worth every word.

_Chinatown, 1888_

“Never thought I’d be back here.” Wyatt muttered to himself, feeling eerily out of place as he treaded down the very same block that they’d traversed on their first trip to Chinatown. Everything predictably looked exactly the same as the first time around, with the chickens and goats wandering around their carts, the sound of people speaking in quick, clipped Chinese, the low hanging laundry lines drifting in the wind, and the hordes of people drifting to and fro. But it was all somehow more overwhelming than he remembered, when they were helplessly lost searching for the very woman who was now striding purposefully alongside him. Jiya looked completely in her element, and Wyatt figured that was appropriate given that she had lived here all by herself, prepared to be lost in time forever.

“You good?” He asked under his breath, peering at her out of the corner of his eye. She looked tense, like she knew what she was doing but she wasn’t sure if it would matter, teetering on the precipice of hope. A familiar stirring of guilt twisted his gut as he looked at this older, steely version of the Jiya who had three years of her life stolen from her. Stolen by non-other than his wife, who he knew was lurking around here somewhere.

“I’m fine.” She said shortly. She seemed to consider before adding, “I’ll be fine once I get him back.”

Nodding, Wyatt took that truth for what it was and steered them toward the side of the busy street as an oncoming carriage rolled by. It was more disorienting than he had anticipated, being back here, and it wasn’t just because it was the place where he watched his best friend die. Something about it seemed surreal, like he didn’t feel totally grounded, and he figured it had something to do with the fact that his future self was standing on the other side of Jiya while his past self was off searching for the photo studio a few blocks away. He was simply in too many places at once, and his consciousness felt inexplicably _stretched._ By the looks of it, his bearded copy was struggling a bit too. 

“We’ve gotta be quick.” His future-self grunted. “I think I can feel myself starting to unwind.”

“Yeah, whatever that means.” Wyatt agreed, shaking his head as if to clear away an invisible fog.

Future-Wyatt took a deep breath to steady himself before asking, “What time is it Jiya?”

She quickly flicked out her wrist, revealing what appeared to be a digital Apple watch. Wyatt couldn’t help but smirk. After being trapped in the past, it seemed like Jiya wasn’t going to risk taking modern technology for granted anymore.

“It’s 2:06.” She said. “Around what time did you guys reach the photo studio?”

“Sometime close to 2:30.” Future-Wyatt replied. Wyatt looked at himself with raised eyebrows, surprised that he remembered what had happened down to the minutes, even after all these years.

His future-self stared back, rigid and determined. “I’ve been waiting for this a long time. You’d better believe I did my research, and I’m not leaving anything to chance.”

“No complaints from me.” Wyatt conceded. “Let’s get moving.”

The odd trio steadily made their way toward the photo studio as quickly as they could. The pair of _him_ must have made quite the sight, Wyatt thought. Although they were hardly wearing matching suits, they’d still gotten some pretty strange looks while passing through the commons. They were pretty distinct looking ‘twins’ in the throng of a Chinatown marketplace, and he could only hope that no lingering Rittenhouse goons had spotted them.

Within minutes they found themselves across the street from the place where everything had gone wrong. Or would go wrong? The original team still hadn’t shown up just yet, so the three tucked themselves into the adjacent alley to sit tight, waiting to see double.

All of a sudden, the same pain that Future-Lucy had exhibited in the bunker hit them like a merciless punch in the gut. Both Wyatt’s were stumbling, struggling to keep their balance as their heads pounded, like they were being torn apart from the inside out. It was an agony unlike anything they’d ever experienced, as the laws of physics and reality punished them for defying logic and existing at the same time.

“Are you guys okay?” Jiya exclaimed, eyes wide with worry.

“Need space.” Future-Wyatt gasped as he struggled to put some distance between himself and the doppelganger, staggering toward the opposite side of the alleyway and sighing in relief as he felt some of the pressure in his head start to dissipate.

“We’ve gotta be quick about this.” Wyatt panted, recovering from what felt the worst migraine of his life. “I don’t know how many more of those I can take.”

“Ditto.” His Future-self agreed. Jiya eyed both of them anxiously, feeling torn between watching for any sign of Rufus and making sure that her two soldiers didn’t drop dead of a time travel induced aneurism. She helped Wyatt back to his feet, making sure he was steady enough to stand on his own before dutifully turning her attention back to the marketplace. Eventually Future-Wyatt cautiously brought himself back into the fold, lingering a few paces behind his past self as they all continued to wait.

But sooner than he would have expected, the wait was over, and Wyatt was assaulted with the same feeling of disassociation the first time he’d seen a copy of himself.

There they were, the four of them. A brooding Wyatt, a tense Lucy, a vigilant Flynn, and an intact Rufus. Alive and breathing. Wyatt heard Jiya’s breath hitch in her throat at the sight of him and instinctively reached out to take her hand, both as a sign of comfort and to make sure she didn’t charge out into the street after him. Much to his pleasant surprise, she didn’t snatch her hand away like he half expected, and only grabbed onto him that much tighter, like if she didn’t latch onto something she could very well float away.

“He’s here.” Jiya choked back tears, almost as if she had to say it out loud to really believe it. Wyatt thought his hand might start to go numb.

“Now all we have to do is wait for the party to start.” Future-Wyatt stated, folding his arms and leaning against the alley wall. He kept flexing his hand awkwardly, and Wyatt realized he also must be able to feel Jiya’s bone crushing grip.

“Jesus Jiya, I think you’re going to squeeze our hand until we can’t feel it anymore.” Future-Wyatt grumbled. 

“Oh, sorry.” She apologized, immediately dropping Wyatt’s hand. “I just, I don’t, I can’t believe we get this _chance._ ” 

“You deserve it.” Future-Wyatt told her sincerely, his voice softening as he looked at her, possibly seeing memories of the Jiya he’d come to know after Rufus’ death, a person who may not even come to exist if they succeeded.

Wyatt couldn’t help but feel his eyes stinging with emotion as the team approached the photo studio, like his body was having a visceral reaction to their proximity, which given the circumstances was entirely possible. The sight of his best friend made his heart thump with equal parts love, regret, and bitter rage. He could almost literally feel a violent impulse tingling in the tips of his fingers, all saved up for a certain red headed monster. 

“You sure I can’t just go in there and pop a cap in Emma’s head right now?” Wyatt ground out, unconsciously reaching for his glock beneath his coat.

“Unfortunately, no.” Future-Wyatt sighed, sounding like he was fighting the same urges himself. “We aren’t supposed to change the timeline any more than we have to.”

“ _Seriously?"_ Wyatt rounded on him. “Wouldn’t that be a change for the _better_?”

“There’s no way to be sure.” Jiya cut in, sounding like she was at war with herself. “If we kill Emma now, who’s to say that Carol and Nicholas won’t survive and end up killing one of us instead? We could come back to an entirely different reality. One where maybe Rufus didn’t die, but Lucy was taken back to Rittenhouse by her mother. We all know how obsessed Carol was with indoctrinating her.” 

And just like that, Wyatt had nothing to say. Why did it always have to be a trade off? Like the universe insisted on some bull shit cosmic balance that always left something or someone to the wolves? 

“We don’t change any more than we have to. That’s the deal.” Future-Wyatt confirmed, his eyes glued to the alternate team.

The unbearded Wyatt watched intently as the foursome made their way up the steps of the photo studio, following Lucy’s worried face as she ushered them inside and the starkness of her pinstriped dress hugging her slight frame, practically a beacon in the crowd. His heart twisted painfully with the knowledge of what she was about to go through, and the fact that there was nothing he could do to stop it. He had never felt more powerless in his whole life.

It seemed like no time at all when they heard the gun shots. Three loud rounds that signaled the end of Carol Preston and Nicholas Keynes, the last of Lucy’s living family. Not that it was much of a family to speak of.

Suddenly Emma and Jessica raced down the front steps of the building, and even though he knew it was going to happen, nothing could prepare Wyatt for the sight of his wife dressed in 19th century clothes, holding a gun, and standing opposite to Emma Whitmore.

She looked like herself, but not herself. And this time it was Jiya who had to reach out and steady Wyatt, who looked like he was an inch away from chasing after Jessica himself. His muscles strained with visible effort to hold himself back, but he managed to keep himself in place as she rushed off into the crowd.

Not two minutes later the past Flynn and Wyatt emerged and prepared to separate, and Wyatt couldn’t help but shake his head at his own foolishness as his past-self insisted on being the one to go after the rogue Jessica.

“You never told me,” Wyatt murmured, turning to himself. “if Jessica was telling the truth about the baby.”

His future-self looked at him, really looked at him, completely beaten down, battle hardened, and weary. In that gaze Wyatt could have sworn he saw all his past mistakes, and maybe even his future ones, as well as all of the consequences that would come along with them. He knew that an ocean of difference stretched between him and his future-self, and it went far beyond the simple scruff and stray gray hairs. This was a man who had lost everything, and abruptly he realized this is how Lucy must have felt when she was rescued from Rittenhouse, only to have the rug pulled out from under her again, to use her own words.

As he peered into his own eyes, a clear message was translated: _do better than I did._ Future-Wyatt seemed to be on the brink of disclosing something monumental, weighing how much he should or should not say, before he made a face that looked distinctly like ‘fuck it’ and opened his mouth.

“Jessica was telling the truth, about everything.” He revealed while smothering his own tears, and Wyatt very nearly forgot how to breathe. “What she did was wrong, to you, to Jiya, to everyone, but she’d been brainwashed by Rittenhouse her whole life. She told me that she never wanted to hurt us, and that she would never be able to if she tried.”

Jiya, who looked somewhat unconvinced, was polite enough to turn away and give them some privacy. Brainwashing or not Jessica Logan had still kidnapped her, still stole three years of her young life, and Jiya’s sympathy only stretched so far.

“You’ve _seen_ her since Chinatown? You spoke to her?” Wyatt sputtered.

Future-Wyatt hung his head, his voice a hoarse whisper. “Just once. When she died in my arms after Emma shot her for defecting.”

Wyatt blanched, thinking he must have heard wrong. “She, she betrayed Emma? For us?” 

Future-Wyatt’s eyes were cold, bleak as a winter gale. “For us, and for our unborn child. She was six months pregnant at the time.”

Wyatt felt numb, much the same way he had when news of Jessica’s murder had hit him the first time around, but that felt like nothing compared to this. That reaction had been a visceral, agonizing blow to the heart suffused with his own justified grief and guilt for letting anything happening to her. This was different. This was a Jessica who had given up her loyalty to Rittenhouse and _died_ for it, bringing their unborn child along with her. He was invariably caught between seeing her as an enemy and someone he trusted implicitly, a threat and a safe haven, a soldier and a _mother._ The phrase ‘conflicting emotions’ was a grievous understatement.

“Hey.” The gravelly sound of his own voice snapped him back to attention. “I know it’s an impossible situation. It always has been, but you have to _choose_ her, just like you chose her when you got that text, and just like you’ve been trying to since she came back into our lives. It’s the only way to protect her and the kid. That way, maybe you don’t have to lose her a second time, like I did.” 

Though her name went unspoken, Wyatt knew that his future self was clearly telling him to let Lucy go. To choose Jessica like he couldn’t choose Lucy and commit to the woman he decided to be with. He knew that this Jessica was different, that she was not a carbon copy of the woman he married in his original timeline. He knew that he had lived six miserable years without her which had left him a different man as well. Yet, he was also convinced that whether in this reality or another, Wyatt Logan knew Jessica down to her core. He still looked into her eyes and saw the woman he loved, Rittenhouse or not. And no matter what they had done for her family or how they had changed her, he still saw that some love reflected in her eyes. The lightning bolt continued to flash between them.

“I hate to interrupt this self-reflective pep talk.” Jiya interjected awkwardly. “But Rufus just left with Fei.”

Three pairs of eyes promptly glanced back in the direction of photo studio, watching as the little Chinese girl lead Rufus down the street and toward the saloon. That was their cue to get going.

“Okay, I’ll go with Jiya to get Rufus. He’s more likely to believe this whole thing if he sees a future version of you wandering around.” Future-Wyatt decided, gathering his bearings. “Which means you’ll have to deliver the message and convince the team to leave.”

At the risk of soliciting more necessary but difficult to swallow advice from his future-self, Wyatt asked, “Who should I try and talk to?”

His future-self considered a moment before answering, “Well, you can’t come into contact with your past self. We don’t want to risk physically crossing your own timeline that many times. So, that leaves Flynn or Lucy, your choice.”

Wyatt swallowed thickly, wishing that his future-self would just make this easier by choosing for him, but he knew it wasn’t that simple. He felt like he was being presented with a very significant crossroads, and that the choice he made would define him going forward one way or another. He just managed a small nod, deciding to cross that bridge when he came to it, procrastination be damned.

Future-Wyatt didn’t look entirely satisfied with that half answer but also didn’t really have time to flesh it out any further. He jerked his head at Jiya, who quickly fell in step behind him, eager not to waste any time.

“Okay, we’re going. We’ll meet you back at the lifeboat at seven sharp, hopefully with Rufus in tow.” He said, trying to sound confident. He brushed off his clothes and gave himself a last once over before extending his hand to Jiya, who took it cordially. She looked like she was preparing for battle herself, and he supposed in a way they were.

“Good luck.” Wyatt told them as they began to back out of the alley.

“Same to you.” Jiya replied, mustering a small smile of encouragement before trailing after Future-Wyatt down the street in pursuit of Rufus, her purple dress fanning out around her like a flower among the dull, colorless Chinatown backdrop. Within moments they had disappeared into the crowd and were out of sight.

The minutes ticked by, time passing relentlessly on as he grappled with the decision which was waiting to be made.

That’s when he heard the sobs.

They were quiet at first, almost too faint to discern among the general hubbub and commotion of the marketplace, but then they got louder. As the pitch became ever clearer, there was no way to deny what the sound was, and who it was coming from.

About fifty feet across the street, sitting alone with two dead bodies littering the floor, Lucy Preston was crying.

The idea of it alone nearly drove a knife through his heart, and he could never recall a time where the sound of another person’s tears threatened to undo him so completely. He could literally hear her heartache, everything that she had endured from her mother, from Rittenhouse, from him. She was practically hemorrhaging pain, and he realized that it was only because she thought that no one was there to hear. She always held herself together so tightly in front of everyone else, never let herself crumble unless she was alone. But of course she did, he realized, because the last time she let herself fall apart in front of him he had promised to pick up the pieces. And then he had left her.

A moment passed, and he made his choice.

He marched out of the alley, turned right and began to make his way down the street, leaving the photo studio behind.

Wyatt wanted nothing more than to burst through that door and take away all her misery. He would give the world to do that for her, but he had to accept that he couldn’t be that person for her anymore. How could he be when he knew that in this moment his past self was off confronting Jessica and begging her to stay by his side? Once again, he hadn’t been thinking about Lucy, or the fact that her mother had just been murdered right in front of her. To put it simply, Jessica had been top of the priority list yet again, and if that wasn’t a sign he didn’t know what was.

 _I love you, Lucy._ He had told her that because it was true. He did love her and he felt like she should know, but it wasn’t fair to her all the same. Somewhere along the way of their crazy time travelling adventures compassion and friendship had grown into something more, and he would probably never stop loving her no matter how hard he tried. But his heart, despite whatever feelings had developed, still undeniably belonged to someone else as he had demonstrated time and time again. He would never be able to give his whole self to her, and now he knew why.

So, there was nothing left to do but find the one person who was already hers, whether she knew it or not.

It didn’t take Wyatt long to find him. Garcia Flynn’s tall, burgundy clad form was stalking conspicuously through the throngs of passerby, keeping a sharp eye out for any trace of Emma. But instead his furious eyes landed on Wyatt, and he wasted no time in carving a path toward him. Wyatt felt like he was about to be charged by an angry bull, and he supposed that this time he probably deserved it.

“Well, by the looks of it I’m assuming your wife got away.” Flynn snarled angrily, daring Wyatt to fight back as he loomed over him. Something about Flynn’s sass never failed to infuriate him, especially since their little altercation in the silo that had left Lucy with a bruised jaw. He winced at the memory of his knuckles connecting with her skin, but he fought to remain calm as the two of them peeled off to the side of the dusty road. In the distance the sun was beginning to set, the crowds were starting to disperse with the closing of the day, and Wyatt knew he didn’t have much time.

“Look, I’m not who you think I am.” Wyatt began, feeling like he was already botching this. “I’m Wyatt, but I’m not your Wyatt. I’m from the future.”

Flynn eyed him skeptically, as if to say this was really not the best occasion for time travel related jokes. “You, who look exactly the same as I saw you ten minutes ago, are from the future? Do you think I’m stupid?”

Wyatt huffed, suppressing the urge to offer an impertinent answer to that question before stiffly reaching into his coat pocket and withdrawing a carefully folded note. Before leaving the bunker he had asked both Flynn and Lucy to write a note to their past selves, just as back up evidence if either of them proved unwilling to cooperate. He should have known that proof would be more than necessary in Flynn’s case, especially if the story was coming from him.

“Is this just a cover to give Jessica more time to get away?” Flynn snarked. “Because if so, it’s pretty transparent.”

Wyatt unfolded the letter, noticing it was written in what must be Flynn’s native language, before roughly shoving it into his hands. “Here, dickhead, just read this. Maybe _you_ can convince yourself.”  

Flynn eyed the note suspiciously, turning it over in his large fingers before recognizing the familiar scrawl of his own handwriting. Straightening out the creased paper, Flynn’s eyes roved hungrily over the page, scanning line for line of whatever dearly held secrets the future Flynn had written in order to persuade himself that Wyatt was telling the truth. For once, Wyatt wondered how it felt for Flynn to be on the other side of this conversation, with his own longhand refusing to be ignored. It was an odd sense of reverse déja vu, what with his relationship with Lucy’s journal, a mystery which still continued to puzzle Wyatt with questions he couldn’t bring himself to ask.

Slowly, he watched as Flynn’s face started to change. His eyes narrowed as they flicked over the same sentences over and over again, willing them to show him something different but coming up with nothing. Finally, he raised his gaze to Wyatt’s, looking less openly hostile but still fairly guarded.

“You got this from me?” Flynn asked dubiously. “Because apparently Emma murders Rufus here?”

“You guys have to leave without him.” Wyatt affirmed. “Jiya, my Jiya, is on her way to grab him right now, before anything happens to him.”

“And out of everyone here you picked _me_ to have this conversation with?” Flynn seemed genuinely curious. “Why?”

Wyatt shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, willing himself not to break contact with Flynn’s piercing gaze. He shoved his hands into his pockets, feeling less like a soldier and more like an inarticulate teenager. But he’d be damned if he stammered like an idiot in front of Flynn, gathering himself to say what he’d come to say. Because as assholic, smug, and cocky as Flynn could be, Wyatt knew that to Lucy he was someone else entirely.

“Look, as we speak Lucy is alone crying over her dead mother.” Wyatt’s voice was strained. 

Flynn’s face darkened, and Wyatt saw an undecipherable stream of emotions splay over his face, his mouth settling into a deep frown as he quietly asked, “Shouldn’t you be comforting her then?”

Taken aback, Wyatt could only blink in shock as all of Flynn’s snark and smarm had been swept away without a trace. All that stood before him were worry lines, the deepest concern, and if he didn’t know any better, love. Yet, he was so willing to surrender her to Wyatt, offering to back down and walk away before that love could be fully realized. Almost as if he didn’t believe he deserved the chance to try. It was enough to make even Wyatt feel a stirring of pity for this broken, damaged man.

“I’m not the one she needs.” Wyatt said gruffly, and it took every ounce of his strength to admit it out loud. “I can’t be what she needs, and I think you know that.”

Flynn’s face was expressionless, for once without a trace of judgment or disdain as he stared at Wyatt implacably. He neither acknowledged nor argued the other man’s point, for which Wyatt found himself immensely grateful. He wasn’t any more eager to hash out his love life than Flynn was, but this was something that needed to be said.

“She has to know that she isn’t alone. And I don’t think she needs a future version of me to burst in while she’s grieving.”

To that point, Flynn looked like he would be inclined to agree, but still refused to say a word. He looked half caught between disbelief that he was having this conversation with Wyatt of all people and a desire to accept he could possibly be the one Lucy wanted. The one that anyone wanted, for the first time in so long.

Wyatt couldn’t stand the silence any longer. “And I know you need her just as much as she needs you.”

Flynn’s eyes flashed like a dog that had been hit too many times, fighting the urge to bite back.

“Don’t act like you know me, Logan.” Flynn growled, closing himself off as fast as he opened up.

“I don’t have to know you, I just have to have eyes.” Wyatt scoffed. “Just go, before the past me shows up to interrupt.”

“Sounds like something you would do.” Flynn muttered irritably.

That fact, of all things, seemed to catch Flynn’s attention and steer him into motion. As if he was gearing up to say something to Lucy which couldn’t afford to be disrupted, and Wyatt belatedly wondered what exactly he’d walked in on when he’d originally returned to find Flynn kneeling in front of Lucy with his eyes wide, soft, and vulnerable. It may have been the most human Wyatt had ever seen him, but he could hardly say he was surprised. Lucy always brought out the best in people, it’s just who she was.

“Anymore words of wisdom before I cut out of here, cowboy?” Flynn quipped, itching to get going. Wyatt rolled his eyes at the nickname, knowing Flynn only used it to get a rise out of him. Even in a situation like this.

“Just make sure you guys grab Jiya and get out of here as fast as you can. Show her the note if you have to. Rufus’ life depends on it, and so do all of ours.” Wyatt instructed somberly, although Flynn looked like he’d rather die than share whatever was written on that scrap of paper. He could only hope that Jiya’s past self would listen, although trusting Flynn was still something most of the team was getting accustomed to, so he’d just have to take his chances. 

“I’ll do my best.” Flynn promised, also sounding doubtful that anyone would believe his story but looking determined all the same. With that he threw Wyatt a mock salute before whirling and charging down the street, mowing through the thinning crowd like the true maniac that he was.

Watching Flynn make his way back to Lucy, Wyatt suddenly felt gratified that at least he could do this small favor to her. That after all he had put her through, intentionally or not, he could make up for it by encouraging the most impossible man in the world express his feelings.  Because there was no longer a doubt about it in his mind that Garcia Flynn was in love with Lucy Preston.

The thought of it used to make him excessively uncomfortable, incredulous, and inexplicably angry, even when he knew he had no right to be. Now, surprisingly, it just made him hopeful. Second chances like the one he’d been granted with Jessica were, if not impossible, far and few between. He hardly felt like he deserved it, especially after how spectacularly disastrous everything had turned out, but he still wanted those kinds of possibilities for his teammates, even Flynn. He couldn’t say he loved the guy, or hardly even liked him. But tolerated? Yes, he could do that. And for Lucy he’d do just about anything.

With his mission accomplished (or so he hoped), Wyatt spun on his heel and headed toward the lifeboat, feeling lighter than when he’d left.

* * *

 

In retrospect, Jiya thought, it was a wonder that Rufus had survived as long as he had.

It was almost too easy to sneak up on him, with her heart racing and blood pounding in her ears as the anticipation mounted with every moment. She and Future-Wyatt had scouted ahead of her oblivious boyfriend and skirted around the block, positioning themselves in one of the backstreets directly off the main road.

Watching Rufus tread so carelessly, so unaware of his surroundings, made her want to shout at him until her throat was raw. She was so angry she thought she was going to pop a vein, because he just wasn’t paying attention. After all her warnings and premonitions, he still couldn’t bring himself to properly watch his back.

Who knew loving someone could be so infuriating? She wondered.

She was abruptly torn away from her inner musings when she heard Future-Wyatt grunt loudly behind her, squinting his eyes as he ground his teeth together and hissed in pain.

“Are you all right?” She asked, concerned as one of his hands fisted in his air. The headaches seemed to be getting worse.

“I’m fine.” He mumbled unconvincingly, starting to recover as he leaned against the wall for support and took deep breaths. “Keep a lookout for him.”

Jiya didn’t need to be told twice. She let Wyatt recuperate as she carefully peaked her head out into the light and scanned the street for Rufus. He was closer now, just about to walk by their opening.

“Get ready.” Future-Wyatt told her from behind, no longer sounding belabored and winded. He needn’t have worried. If there was anything in her life Jiya was going to get right, it was this.

Just as she expected, Rufus’ didn’t even notice them when he passed by the mouth of the lane and was predictably bewildered when her hand shot out and snatched his wrist, drawing him into the shadows with a quick yank.

“Hey! What are you-” The protest died on his lips the moment he saw who was clutching his wrist. His eyes widened in surprise, and the beautiful smile that split across his face was almost enough to make Jiya forget how furious she was with him.

Almost.

Before she knew what she was doing she drew him in for a breathtaking kiss that felt more like a brand than a brushing of the lips. Like she was claiming him as irrevocably hers, and letting the universe know that he was off limits as any further time travelling collateral damage. Swept up in the sheer passion and possessiveness of their embrace, whatever questions Rufus may have had were pleasantly forgotten.  

The kisses turned hungrier and more frenzied, as if Jiya was worried he might slip away if she let go for even a moment. Even Rufus seemed caught off guard by Jiya’s feverish need to touch him, although he didn’t offer any complaints. When hands started roaming none too innocently Future-Wyatt politely cleared his throat, and the two finally broke apart.

He looked so unbelievably _real_ , and it was like she was seeing him for the first time. She greedily drank in the sight of him from head to toe, re-memorizing everything that made him intrinsically Rufus. From the warmness of his brown eyes to the fullness of his lips which were still bruised from her kisses; the way he always wore his cap slightly to the left of his face, or the familiar quirk of his smile, which could normally make her agree to just about anything.  

Seeing him stand there before her, Jiya couldn’t help but feel like she was walking through a dream that she was soon to wake up from. Or wandering through one of her visions where she was almost able to find a scenario in which Rufus survived, only to have him brutally murdered when she was least expecting it. No matter what she did it always turned out the same way, and it always hurt even when she knew it was coming. All because he didn’t listen. None of them listened. So, she had to watch her nightmares play out in real time like a broken record that scratched on a loop, repeating the same song over and over before it inevitably shattered.

In the blink of an eye her rage had resurfaced, and Jiya rounded on him. “What were you _thinking_?”

“What? What are you talking about?” Rufus faltered, confused and still dazed from kissing as he struggled to keep up with the change in conversation. “I came to bring you home.”

“I didn’t ask you to come. I actually left specific instructions against it.” Jiya argued vehemently, vacillating between anger and grief as she choked back tears. Now it was Rufus’ turn to lose his temper.

“What was I supposed to do? Leave you to die in the 1880’s?” He asked incredulously. 

“Yes! You were supposed to listen to me!” She cried, but even saying it out loud sounded ridiculous to her now. She knew he never could have lived with himself without trying to find her.

“Are you even hearing yourself? I had to save you, there was never any other option.” 

“Well who’s going to save you while you’re busy saving me?” She fired back, finally letting the tears fall.  

“Saving me? You mean-” 

“She means that this jump is the one where you don’t make it back.” Future-Wyatt interjected. Rufus seemed to notice him for the first time, along with the noticeable scruff that far surpassed a casual five o’clock shadow. 

Rufus eyed him suspiciously. “I’m pretty sure you didn’t have a beard when we left the bunker a few hours ago, so you wanna tell me what’s going on?”

Jiya took a deep breath, unsure of where to begin. “Rufus, this is going to sound crazy.”

“We time travel for a living. Does it get much crazier than that?’ He huffed, eyes glued to Future-Wyatt with a look of simultaneous familiarity and distrust.

“You’d be surprised.” Future-Wyatt sighed.

“By what exactly?”

 Jiya just decided to come out and say it. “Rufus, my visions were true. It was all true. And this was the mission, where you, where you-”

“Where I died.” He guessed, a grim understanding alight in his eyes. “But how would you know that unless…”

“We were from the future.” Jiya finished.

His eyes bounced back and forth between Jiya and the slightly older version of Wyatt, noticing the blood on Jiya’s dress and the deep frown lines in the grooves of Wyatt’s face. He recognized that there was something fundamentally different about both of them, just in their defeated gazes and tired postures alone, and the truth seemed to dawn on him. 

“You’re really from the future? How is this possible?” Rufus stammered, sounding like he only half believed it. Jiya was still having a hard time wrapping her head around it herself.

“Well, he’s from five years in the future.” Jiya explained, inclining her head toward the bearded Wyatt. “I just travelled back from a few hours from now.”

Rufus’ jaw nearly dropped to the floor as he took a step toward Future-Wyatt, who looked the most anxious Jiya had ever seen him. “You travelled back into your own timeline to save me?” Rufus asked, awestruck. He had a million questions on the tip of his tongue, chiefly wondering how on Earth this was possible just technically speaking, but of all of them this one felt like the most significant.

The dispassionate, reticent soldier was nearly brought to his knees by the sound of his best friend’s voice, and the fact that Rufus would expect anything less than his best effort.

“There’s nothing I wouldn’t do to bring you back, buddy.” Future-Wyatt assured him, trying to maintain his composure. “After everything, I wasn’t going to stop until I made it up to you. I owed you that much.”

Rufus knew that Wyatt was referring to the conversation they’d had just that morning after Jiya was kidnapped, when he could hardly bring himself to look in Wyatt’s general direction without scowling. When Rufus told Wyatt that if anything happened to Jiya, he’d never forgive him, and he’d meant it. It had never even crossed his mind that he might not be the one making a return trip from this jump, and he could see how much his death had destroyed his best friend, and Jiya too. It was amazing how being so incredibly loved could lead to so much misery. 

Rufus hardly had to think twice before saying, “Consider yourself forgiven.”

He didn’t know if he’d ever seen Wyatt so relieved, like five years of sorrow and guilt just came tumbling off his shoulders from a few simple words. Knowing that it had probably been a long time since he’d received one, Rufus pulled him in for a much-needed hug, clapping him on the back fondly as if to solidify his absolution. By the way Future-Wyatt desperately clutched him back, Rufus could tell it was a gesture he’d gone too long without.  

“Just like that?” Future-Wyatt breathed, letting go and daring to let a small smile curl his lip.

Rufus shrugged. “Well, I’d say that bending the laws of space time to save my life absolves you from how much of an idiot you were being before.”

“I guess I deserve that.” Wyatt chuckled, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. It felt good to be like this with Rufus again. He’d almost forgotten how it felt to joke around with him like giddy teenagers, or to joke at all for that matter.

“Hey, I was technically the one who defied the laws of physics and logic to make this happen.” Jiya pointed out, hands on her hips indignantly. “Well, my future self anyway.”

“Of course you were.” Rufus conceded, taking her hand in his and drawing it to his mouth to lightly kiss her knuckles. “Nobody else could have done it”.

The smile died on Jiya’s lips as she hesitantly drew him closer, like she was afraid he’d shatter under her touch.

“I had to do it Rufus. You didn’t give me any other choice.” Jiya’s tone turned serious. Now devoid of anger and rage, the solemnness of her tired voice willed him to understand what his loss had truly meant to her. How the thought and then the reality of losing him had undone her so completely and destroyed her in a way she hadn’t thought possible.

“I’m so sorry, Jiya. I never wanted to put you through that.” He said sincerely, gulping as he fearfully acknowledged his own death. He meant it too, even if he couldn’t say he’d take back his choice. He’d save her at the expense of his own life over and over but lamented the obvious toll it had taken on her. “I didn’t feel like I had a choice either. A life without you in it wasn’t a life I wanted to live.”

“Yes, I learned how that feels firsthand.” She confessed, her voice cracking slightly. “But maybe instead of sacrificing ourselves we can get back to that life we’re always talking about, together.”

Unable to be physically parted from her any longer, he cupped her face and brought his mouth down to hers in the most delicate kiss she’d ever known. Not wasting a single moment as his lips sought to soothe away all of her pain, remind her that he was here in her arms, and would stay there as long as she wanted him. Jiya was dizzy with the truth of what it meant, overwhelmed by his presence in the best way as she lost herself in the feel of him. The faint smell of his aftershave, the soft taste of his lips, and the reassurance of his living warmth surrounding her. Eventually they had to break apart to come up for air, and to spare Future-Wyatt any further embarrassment, who was patiently waiting for them on the sidelines.

“Together.” Rufus agreed, smoothing a stray strand of hair behind her ear fondly. She catalogued every touch, every expression, every gesture as something she would count herself lucky for. Lucky that she no longer had to think of this day with him as her last.

“Are you ready to go home?” Jiya asked softly, tracing her thumb over the outline of his lips in adoration. The words almost sounded too good to be true, but this was a happy ending she wasn’t going to question.

Rufus’ slowly nodded before coming back to himself for a minute. “What about everybody else? Are we just going to leave them here?”

“Wyatt’s off taking care of that, making sure they find me and leave before Emma can get the drop on them.” Jiya explained, watching as Rufus’ face sagged in surprise.

“Wait, there are _more_ of you here? There’s another Wyatt on this trip?” Rufus blustered.

Future-Wyatt and Jiya exchanged a knowing glance.

“We’ve got a lot to tell you.”  


	3. Lost and Found

Disclaimer: I don't own Timeless or any of its characters.

It was a strange feeling, Lucy thought, as she looked across the kitchen and stared into her own brown eyes, knowing it was herself, and yet not being able to read the other woman at all. The future version of herself seemed...different. It wasn't just the short haircut and battle worn clothes, or even the conspicuous pistol hanging from her hip. No, it was that she seemed hardened. More damaged, if that were even remotely possible. It made Lucy shudder at the thought of her future, wondering what further trials she was destined to face, as if today's events hadn't been heart wrenching enough.

The loss of her mother was still a dull ache in her chest. It was as if she could feel her heart bleed and tear with every passing thought or unwelcome memory of the woman who raised her, the woman she still irrationally loved, and the woman who never truly existed as she remembered her. The sound of her mother's last gasping breaths echoed harshly in her ears, almost as if she were dying all over again, clinging to Lucy for dear life as she urged her daughter to claim her birthright as Rittenhouse royalty. When Lucy had imagined her final moments with her mother, if she ever had, that was certainly not how she envisioned it going over. The leftover turmoil of conflicting emotions was almost too much to bear, uncontrollably vacillating between love and hatred, tenderness and disgust, security and fear. She was left with a million unanswered questions, and no one living to answer them.

And then there was Rufus, their pilot, their friend, their family. She considered him nothing less than a brother and was absolutely mortified when she heard the gunshots ring out, turning to see a fatally wounded Rufus sinking to the ground. She couldn't bear to watch him fade away, to watch his eyes flutter and close for the last time. So she ran from her grief and focused her energy on the only idea that made sense to her muddled brain at the time: vengeance.

Losing two of the most important people in your life would be devastating in any circumstance, but it didn't help that they were murdered by the one person she hated most in the world. Lucy Preston had never really hated anyone before, and never thought she had the capacity to; it was too aggressive of an emotion that had never touched her so deeply as it did now. When she pictured Emma Whitmore's face in her mind, her chest bubbled with pure, unadulterated rage that threatened to tear at the seams of her sanity. And that was all she had felt as she charged down the alleyway armed with a pistol, richly satisfied as she watched Emma collapse to the floor by one of her well-aimed shots. What she hadn't counted on was running out of bullets or being subsequently beaten to a pulp. Emma definitely would have killed her if Flynn hadn't caught up with them when he did, throwing a few haphazard bullets Emma's way before dropping everything to cradle a broken Lucy in his arms. She was still in awe of what he had done. From his gentle, comforting touch, to how he had let the new de facto leader of Rittenhouse slip through his fingers, all to make sure she was okay. She had clung to him like a lifeline, looked into his eyes as the sobs wrenched themselves from her body and the grief permeated every part of her. Grief for Amy, her mother, Rufus, for herself. For her life. All of it came spilling out, like the dam inside of her had suddenly crumbled and she was awash with every feeling she had repressed since her rescue from Rittenhouse. Flynn was there for her through it all, holding her close, whispering reassurances in her ear as she fell apart in his grasp. He held her until the pain faded to a numbness that would allow her to function, then walked her back to the lifeboat, supporting her the entire way. Never once since this all began would she have imagined Garcia Flynn being the one to offer her solace when she had nowhere else to turn. Yet, he was there and had been ever since his first trip with them to Salem, even helping her pick up the pieces after Jessica came back into the picture. Whether it was patching up her wounds, late night drinking sessions, or simply the promise of shared company over a movie, he had always been there for her however she would allow him to be. The truth of it still startled her to the core, and as she found herself seeking him out more often she knew less and less of what to make of their relationship. She wondered where he had slunk off to, probably tending his wounds somewhere in the medical bay.

It had been an emotional whirlwind of a day, to say the least, only to be topped off by the appearance of her future self, who was now staring right back at her with the journal resting between them.

"That's my journal." Lucy said disbelievingly. She extended her arm out to take it but held herself back, as if she was afraid it might burn to the touch. An irrational fear, but hadn't all rationality gone out the window at this point?

"Actually it's my journal." Future-Lucy corrected. "I just finished writing it this morning before we jumped here." 

Puzzled, Lucy thought back to everything she knew about the journal, which wasn't much when she thought about it. Flynn said he'd gotten it from a future version of her in São Paulo back in 2014, but hadn't volunteered much more information about what it said inside. Had she been the one to give it to him, or the steely warrior-princess version of Lucy sitting across from her?

She suddenly remembered something Wyatt had told her a lifetime ago, after their mission to the 1970's when Flynn had stolen the Nixon tapes. Back when he'd held Wyatt prisoner he'd told him something about the journal, something that when she'd heard it made her blood run cold. 

"Flynn had mentioned that the Lucy in the journal seemed different." Lucy fumbled for words. "That sometimes the stuff she said sounded kind of..."

"Crazy?" Future-Lucy finished for her, chuckling darkly. "Well, now you know why."

Lucy shook her head, confused. "But I don't understand. We're the same person. What's mine is yours, right? How can you write something that I don't?" 

"Because from the moment we arrived here our realities diverged. To put it simply, my life is no longer set in stone as your future." Future-Lucy explained, standing up from her chair to circle the kitchen apprehensively. They were both anxiously waiting for the lifeboat to return, and seeing herself pace was only making her that much more nervous.

Speaking of nerves, another idea popped into Lucy's head that made her nearly vault out of her chair. "Does that mean you'll replace us one day?" She asked tensely, the possibility that she could one day just cease to exist making her stomach flip. 

But Future-Lucy was quick to assuage her worries. "No, crossing your own timeline means crossing a different reality. When you go home you return to your own reality, not the divergent one where you inflicted the change." Future-Lucy explained, tripping over her own muddled understanding of the flexible, inconsistent rules of time travel. Lucy was at least grateful that five years down the line she seemed to have a better grip on how this all worked, exhaling gratefully as her panic dissipated. 

"Don't worry, you're not going to disappear off the face of the Earth." Future-Lucy assured her, crossing her arms as she leaned against the kitchen counter casually while Lucy tried to process everything she'd been told.  

"So the lifeboat is an inter-dimensional time machine now?" Lucy asked wryly, finding the whole improbability of their lives something worth laughing at by this point.

Future-Lucy put her hands up in mock surrender. "Don't ask me. I'm still just the history informant, even if I don't dress like one anymore." She frowned down at her dirty combat gear. "All of the theories of matter and time still go over my head. I just try to understand the condensed version that Jiya gives me."

Relieved that some things never changed, Lucy let herself enjoy the lighthearted moment before her eyes landed on the insistent little book once again, which refused to be ignored. 

"What am I supposed to do with this?" Lucy asked uncertainly as she finally lifted the journal off of the table, turning it over in her fingers. The solid weight of it in her hands seemed like an appropriate metaphor for the literal weight of the world which always seemed to fall on her. 

"For now? Put it away, the team can only handle so many bombshells in one day." Future-Lucy sighed heavily, wiping the sweat from her brow. "But after we leave and the dust settles, read it. It might be able to help you avoid ending up how I did."

Lucy gulped at the implications of all that was being left unsaid, all that her future self was trying to save her from. She felt a strange sense of gratitude permeate her as she silently nodded and rose from her chair, tucking the journal under her arm as she searched for an adequate place to temporarily hide it. She made her way down the hall toward the bedrooms, aware that her future self was quietly trailing behind her.

Eventually she settled on the book shelf in the room she shared with Jiya, sliding it into a gap between two textbooks where it could easily blend in until the moment was right. 

"Thank you." She said sincerely, turning to where she knew Future-Lucy was standing in the doorway. "For everything."

Her future self looked distinctly like she was about to reach out and hug her before realizing that touching each other could result in a rip in the fabric of space time. So she settled on a small smile, which Lucy readily returned. 

"Who knows, maybe you'll write your own version some day." Future-Lucy shrugged, taking a seat on one of the cots and folding her hands together. If Lucy didn't know better she would have sworn it looked like she was praying. 

Bewildered, Lucy blinked at her. "What makes you say that?"

"Because I never went back to São Paulo." Lucy divulged, looking up sharply. "And somebody still has to."

Lucy let the weight of that responsibility sink in before asking a question she had a feeling she might regret. "Why didn't you go?"

The moment the question left her lips Future-Lucy's face collapsed like a crumpled piece of paper, her eyes closed and lips pursed tightly with the effort of holding back tears, and Lucy thought that maybe she didn't want to know what could have happened to make her feel such despair.  

But before she could inquire further the sound of wind rushing through the landing dock signaled the return of the lifeboat, which popped back into existence shortly after on the center of the platform. For a moment the two women simple stared at each other, and then they hit the ground running. Both Lucys were on their feet and charging down the hall towards the silo as the lifeboat came into view. They stood there motionless as the rusted rings slowly came to a halt, looking up expectantly, each wondering the same thing.

Had they been able to save him? And if so, had Wyatt paid the price?

Lucy held her breath as the circular door of the lifeboat released and slid open to reveal the ships interior. She heard voices and the sound of buckles unlatching before seeing present Wyatt who was beginning to climb out of the hatch. Relief flooded her as she accepted that he'd made it back in one piece, or two pieces, if you counted his future counterpart. 

But that only left one more question, and she could only bring herself to say his name. "Rufus?" She asked softly, her voice breaking with both hope and fear.

Wyatt looked at her for a long moment, blue eyes brimming with unspoken emotion, and then he finally let himself smile. Shortly after which she heard a voice from inside the lifeboat, one she thought she might never hear again.

"Miss me?" Rufus called playfully.

And with that she released a breath she didn't realize she began holding and burst into tears and laughter. She watched as Rufus peaked his head out of the hatch grinning at her cheerfully, before climbing down and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug. He was still wearing his 19th century Chinatown garb, although thankfully there was no more macabre blood stain smeared across his white shirtfront. She grasped him tightly, weeping tears of joy into his shoulder.

"I was dead for less than a day, Luce. I'm back, and I'm not going anywhere." He assured her, still not completely comfortable with the idea of having died. She finally released him and wiped her eyes, smiling brightly.

"Sorry, I'm just so happy that you're all right." She said. He smiled down at her fondly, but his brow furrowed with concern when he noticed the bruises marring Lucy's pale face.

"What happened to you?" He asked worriedly, his eyes scanning her injuries.

"Emma." Was all Lucy said as she shrugged and tried to ignore the stinging of her wounds.

He was about to reply when his glance shifted to just behind her, his eyes landing on Future Lucy who was adjusting the stairs up to the lifeboat.

"And I thought future Wyatt was weird." Rufus muttered, shaking his head in disbelief. "Why does future you look like Lara Croft 2.0?"

"I heard that, Rufus." Future Lucy said sternly over her shoulder, but still grinning all the same. Once the stairs were in place Rufus was followed by Jiya, who looked a million times better than when Lucy last saw her. The young woman immediately reached for Rufus once she hit the ground, peppering his face with kisses for what was probably not the first time since they saved him.

"You have no idea what you put me through in the last 24 hours Rufus. No idea." She said as she looked at him adoringly, the edge of her grief touching her voice. Rufus took her hand and squeezed it gently as he gave her a serious look. He could see it in her eyes, what his death had done to her.

"You'll never have to go through that again." He said. "I promise."

She gave him a soft smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. It would be a while before she could really believe that he was alive and breathing, after he literally died in her arms.

Wyatt and his future self clambered out one after the other, Lucy eyeing them both warily. Just minutes before the future life-boat had exploded into the bunker, Wyatt had told her he loved her. It had been the last thing she had been expecting to hear in that moment, and she wasn't sure how to feel about it. A part of her had been touched, like all the repressed feelings she had for him came flooding back as she heard the three words that she'd ached for all along. But that happiness was fleeting, as she painfully realized who was missing in the bunker.

 _I'm his second choice_ , was all she could think as she pictured Jessica Logan's face in her mind's eye.

It was only after Jessica had betrayed him that Wyatt Logan could bring himself to tell Lucy that he loved her. While he may have felt that way all along, Lucy couldn't help but feel like she was just waiting in the wings for Wyatt to compartmentalize his conflicting emotions and choose. She wasn't interested in being anyone's consolation prize, and although she did love Wyatt, she couldn't help but doubt whether she was still in love with him after everything that had happened. However, seeing her future self arrive with Wyatt by her side had forced her to question her feelings, and wonder whether or not their relationship could ever develop further.

In the distance Lucy heard a metal door slam before seeing Agent Christopher rush into the landing dock, Connor by her side, both of their faces splitting into genuine smiles as they caught sight of Rufus.

"Glad to have you back." She said warmly, pulling him in for a brief embrace. He patted her awkwardly on the back, not used to affectionate hugs from their normally fearless leader. Conner reached for him almost desperately, letting quiet tears fall as he clutched the young man who had become like a son to him.

Rufus pulled away before asking, "And where's creepy uncle Flynn? Like he said, we're practically family now."

As if on cue, Lucy could see his tall form making its way down the nearby hall, clad in a red turtleneck with a sling around his arm as he sauntered into the room. She didn't realize he had been shot by Emma until they had returned to the present, and had felt a wave of guilt engulf her as she remembered him holding her despite the excruciating pain he must have been experiencing. She made a mental note to apologize for that later. Meanwhile, Flynn finally made his entrance, his eyes landing on her briefly as they always did, before sliding toward Rufus.

"Did I hear that right?" Flynn asked smugly. "I thought I heard Rufus call me family. I must be dreaming."

Surprisingly, Rufus only smiled at him, too happy about making it out of Chinatown alive to care about Flynn's sarcasm. But Flynn surprised him too, as he walked over and extended his uninjured arm, placing his hand out in front of Rufus.

"I'm glad you're okay Rufus." He said sincerely, holding his hand out expectantly. Lucy noticed the tension in his body, the faint hesitation in his voice. He really cared, Lucy realized. She could see it in his eyes as he subtly reached out, wanting to show that he wasn't the monster they had all believed him to be. That he was just as human as the rest of them.

Rufus eyed him skeptically for what seemed like forever, before finally taking Flynn's hand in his own and shaking it firmly.

"Thanks, Flynn." Rufus replied. "Between you, Emma, and Al Capone it's a wonder I'm still around, but for what it's worth I'm glad we're fighting on the same side now."

Flynn dutifully ignored the mention of him ordering Rufus to be shot, knowing the pilot still wasn't completely over the whole affair and simply replied, "Likewise".

Everyone made their way to the kitchen, assembling in the common space as they all settled into the peace of mind knowing that they were all safe, and lived to see another day. Lucy positioned herself at the main dining table in the galley sipping her tea, sitting across from Rufus and Jiya whose hands lay intertwined on the table top, his thumb brushing her knuckles soothingly. Conner busied himself with making coffee, and Denise rested comfortably leaning against a nearby countertop. Meanwhile the three brooding soldiers all hung to the edges of the room. Wyatt, his future self, and Flynn all leaning against their respective walls, observing protectively. Future Lucy, the last to join the camaraderie, walked in and held her ground in the center of the room, eyes locked on her past self. She didn't know if she had the strength to do what she was about to do, knowing how much everything could change. But then again, things already had changed; they'd saved Rufus and brought him home. But her next plan of attack didn't involve anything so uplifting. She forced herself to be strong, like she always did, as she cleared her throat.

"Ahem." She said, the whole group turning to stare. Flynn's gaze lingered on her. She looked more or less the same as she had on that fateful day in Sao Paolo, Brazil, when she walked into a bar and changed his life forever. She looked stronger, tougher, having had a few years to nurse her accumulated wounds. Not to mention the fact that she looked beautiful as ever, even coming straight from the battlefront. As he traced the lines of her face with his eyes, he couldn't help but wonder what the future had in store for him, for them. However, he couldn't deny the slight ping of jealousy that tugged at his heart at seeing her appear with a bearded Wyatt by her side.

"I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm as happy as you all are that Rufus is home, safe and sound." She began, briefly smiling in Rufus' direction. "But there's something we need to discuss before Wyatt and I head back to our timeline."

"About what?" Denise asked quickly, her expression turning pensive.

Future Lucy gave her a grim look. "About Rittenhouse."

A blanket of silence settled over the company as they all held their breath, hoping for the best but expecting the worst as Future Lucy opened her mouth to speak. Her eyes landed on present Lucy, who was carefully avoiding her gaze.

"You have to go back to them." Future Lucy stated firmly.

The younger woman froze, her entire body seizing up as she suddenly found it difficult to breathe. She must have heard wrong.

"What?" She croaked out hoarsely, turning to face herself. It was a sensation she would never become accustomed to.

"You have to go back to Rittenhouse." Future Lucy repeated. Present Lucy stood up so fast that she almost lost her balance, but she hardly noticed as she stared into her own eyes with a fear that burned down to her core, all eyes trained on the pair as they silently traded gazes.

"No." Lucy whispered fearfully, desperately clutching the rim of her chair for support as she fought the wave of panic that threatened to overtake her. "I won't -I can't go back there."

In that moment both Wyatt and Flynn moved simultaneously towards Lucy, the instinct to protect her even against herself propelling them forward until Future Lucy held up a hand to halt their approach. Both gave her puzzled, stony looks before backing off slightly, bodies tense as they waited for her to continue. _Some things you have to face alone_ , she thought.

"You have to." Future Lucy stated, emotionless and rigid as she could muster.

Before Lucy could protest Wyatt cut in on her behalf, adamantly against the idea as he gruffly asked, "How would Lucy going back to Rittenhouse possibly help anything?"

Wyatt's future self looked at him with a mixture of pity and understanding before subtly shaking his head and looking away. Silently telling himself, this isn't your battle to fight.

"Because you and I both know," Future Lucy spoke directly to herself. "That the others will never willingly recognize Emma as their rightful leader. Rittenhouse is about blood and _family_. While Emma may have managed to crawl and backstab her way to the top, they will always value birthright over merit, no matter how archaic it may be."

"But what does that have to do with Lucy?" Jiya asked innocently.

"Yeah, we know Lucy's Rittenhouse, but what makes her any more important than the rest of them?" Rufus added. Lucy felt her whole body tense as the truth burned inside her and simmered beneath her skin, saturating her with shame for a legacy that she never asked for.

Future Lucy took another step closer to her past self, who instinctively took a step back. The tension building between the two could have easily been cut with a knife.

"You still haven't told them, have you?" Future Lucy said softly.

"Told us what?" Rufus asked suspiciously. Lucy's head snapped up as she looked herself dead in the eyes with a silent, desperate plea. _Don't, don't say it_ , she thought helplessly. _Please_.

But Future Lucy didn't waver. "There's a reason that Emma begrudgingly nicknamed us 'princess'. And there's a reason that she has fought tooth and nail to kill us since the day we met her."

Future Lucy swallowed against a dry throat, preparing to reveal the ugly truth that had plagued her own conscience for so long. The truth that the Lucy in this timeline had yet to tell her own companions, and for good reason. It was the part of herself that she constantly strove to deny, but that been constructed into the very fabric of her life, whether she had known it or not. Most of all, it was the part of herself that terrified her. The part that made her a monster by lineage, allegedly on a path to destroy the world as she knew it, all because of the blood that ran in her veins. She knew this would hurt the Lucy she saw standing before her, knew it would break her the same way it broke herself, all those years ago. But it had to be done. She fixed herself with a blank stare and heaved a heavy sigh.

"It's because Lucy is the last living direct descendant of David Rittenhouse himself. With our mother and Nicholas gone, she's the only one standing in Emma's way. And, as mom so eloquently put it, that makes us...practically royalty." She finished with a tinge of disgust coloring her voice.

Present Lucy defeatedly closed her eyes and sank back into her chair as she heard almost everyone in the room audibly gasp; she was too embarrassed to look into their eyes and see the looks of repulsion and betrayal that she knew would linger there. She knew they would never look at her the same, that they would think less of her. And she felt powerless knowing that there was nothing she could say or do to change it. _Why is she...why am I doing this to myself?_   She wondered helplessly.

A deathly silence hung in the air, only the sound of the oversized fans spinning overhead disrupted the quiet stillness of the room. No one dared to move, or barely even breathe until Wyatt suddenly spoke.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Wyatt asked quietly, unable to keep the bite out of his voice. It made Lucy's heart ache with equal parts anger and pain to hear him sound so resentful, as if she had betrayed them in some way. Betrayed him.

"Because I was ashamed. I am ashamed!" She cried turning to him, the words tearing themselves from her throat violently as her voice shook with emotion. "I didn't choose this. I didn't want this. To know that I'm an integral part of the one thing I hate most in the world, to know that my family isn't who I thought they were, that my own mother was grooming me to be some sort of Rittenhouse trophy my entire life. I never wanted any of it, and I didn't want that to be who I was to all of you."

She took a shaky breath before continuing, "I was afraid you would think I was some sort of spy or double agent. That you might kick me out of the bunker and send me back to them. I know you're probably disgusted with me, and I understand if you want me off the team-"

"Stop it." Flynn cut her off roughly. "Don't say things that aren't true."

Lucy just looked at him speechless. Out of everyone here, Lucy would have expected Flynn the first to want her gone. His entire mission, his existence centered around the destruction of Rittenhouse, so why would he want to be working alongside their crown princess? Or perhaps his priorities weren't quite as she understood them. Maybe he already knew about her connection to David Rittenhouse from the journal, since almost everything else had been recorded in it's mysterious pages. But before she could ponder his response any further she felt someone take her hand across the table and turned to see a teary eyed Jiya gazing at her tenderly.

"Lucy, how could you ever think we would send you away? We know the kind of person you are." She said gently. "You're the most selfless, caring, intelligent woman I know, and you have nothing to do with those people. They aren't what makes you who you are. They never will be."

Lucy managed a small smile as she squeezed Jiya's hand gratefully. Shocked but relieved that she wasn't being received as a traitor in their midst.

"She's right you know." Future Lucy agreed. "They don't make us who we are. However, that doesn't mean we can't take advantage of our position to accomplish our own ends."

The ensemble eyed her skeptically, so she continued. "If Lucy could manage to convince the other members of the Rittenhouse board that she was working for them all along and prove that Emma killed Carol and Nicholas in cold blood, she could assume her place as their leader, and bring Rittenhouse down from the inside out."

All the blood drained from Lucy's face as she tried her best to focus on the salt and pepper shaker at the end of the table. Anything that she could see that would ground her, keep her from going over the edge as she felt words bubble up in her throat before she could stop them.

"You know, better than anyone." She began, taking a steadying breath and facing her future self. "You know what they did to me."

With this her future self finally deflated, her voice softening to a whisper as painful memories flashed in her mind's eye.

"Yes." Was her weak reply.

"Then how could you ever send me back there?" Lucy asked furiously.

"Because it's the only way to put an end to all of this." Future Lucy insisted, exasperated. There was no way to make herself understand. She knew herself and expected that she would have to come to it on her own.

Present Wyatt couldn't contain himself any longer. He turned on his own future self with an incredulous look before demanding, "How are you on board with this?"

His future self shared a brief glance with Future Lucy, in which a silent argument seemed to ensue, all within a matter of seconds and the flickering of eyes. Future Wyatt finally sighed before replying, "I don't like it either, but I can't stop her from making her own decisions. You know she's just as stubborn as we are."

"Too stubborn for her own good. It's a bad idea." Flynn muttered under his breath. He looked positively incensed at the idea of Lucy going anywhere near Rittenhouse, let alone playing a role as some sort of double agent. As her attention drifted away from the others and the sound of their bickering faded to a low background hum, Lucy was suddenly struck by how protective Flynn seemed, fighting off the hysteric urge to laugh about how odd the whole situation was. Wyatt was normally the one shielding her, coddling her, even to the point of driving her crazy. And yet, here was his future self, supporting what could essentially turn out to be a suicide mission, leaving Flynn to take on the role of the dauntless protector. It was jarring to say the least, but more than that, it was strangely comforting to know that someone would be there for her, just her. To know that even after everything, including his own arrest and the reveal of the extent of her own entanglement with Rittenhouse, after everything he was there for her unconditionally. And suddenly she was able to breathe easier, because she knew intrinsicially that Garcia Flynn would have her back no matter what. However, the sound of her own voice speaking suddenly drew her back to reality.

"It's our best shot." Future Lucy argued to no one in particular.

"Why are you telling us this?" Denise inquired, speaking for the first time. Lucy was grateful for the change in subject matter. "Has something different occurred in your timeline that you're trying to change?"

Future Lucy shrugged, the signs of exhaustion and weariness suddenly all too evident in her sagging posture and disheveled attire, as if she'd just emerged straight from the line of fire.

"We've been fighting a war that seems like it may never end. A war that lately seems to be turning in Rittenhouse's favor. In our timeline we never saved Rufus, we just kept going with no end in sight, and it's taken its toll. We hoped that coming back here would change all of that. Change everything that happened and change everything that we became. We aren't the same people we once were." She finished softly.

"You don't know if Lucy going back to Rittenhouse would change that for certain." Flynn said tightly, caught between the instinct to shield the Lucy he knew but also comfort the older, more broken version he saw standing before him. Future Lucy regarded him coolly, an unfathomable expression playing across her face that even the present Lucy couldn't decipher.

"But it could." Was all she said.

Before Flynn could reply a loud beeping filled the air, as Future Lucy's digital watch started flashing alarmingly. She checked the screen before narrowing her eyes and glancing toward Future Wyatt.

"Time to go." He said matter-of-factly. "Can't spend too long in an alternate timeline. Jiya says that it messes too much with the fabric of space time."

Jiya perked up a bit at hearing mention of her future self. "So I'm really the one who figured out how to travel in our own time lines?"

Wyatt nodded. "And you taught me how to pilot the lifeboat, which was arguably even harder since I'm not exactly what you would call tech savvy."

"Do I look like a cool video game avatar in the future too?" She asked eagerly.

"No, you look just as dorky as always, even with a gun." Wyatt smirked before turning and walking back toward the landing dock, Future Lucy trailing behind him as they made their way to the upgraded life-boat.

But just as Lucy was about to pass by Flynn she stopped abruptly, turning on her heel as she suddenly threw her arms around his waist and engulfed him in a quick embrace. Flynn's eyes were blown wide in momentary shock before his arms began to move of their own accord, swiftly pulling her close as he inhaled the scent of her hair against his nose. He could feel a small curving at the corner of his mouth as the familiar aroma of strawberries engaged his senses; even hardened and battle-worn, she still used her sister's shampoo. All too soon she was pulling away, the brief glimpse of the affectionate Lucy they all knew starting to vanish as quickly as it had come, but she continued to linger before him.

"What was that for?" He asked, eyeing her tenderly as his hands rested on her shoulders. He could have sworn he could see tears welling up in her eyes that she was desperately trying to suppress. She had been trying to keep a grip on her self control ever since she climbed out of the upgraded life-boat and saw his face staring back at her, but she couldn't keep it together much longer.

"It's just...It's good to see you, Garcia." She replied a little breathlessly, unsure of how much she should reveal. She felt him tense up at the use of his first name, after having been called strictly Flynn for the last four years. It was as if she was speaking to another part of him that had lied dormant beneath all the grief and rage that had ceaselessly propelled him forward for so long. Even the rest of the team seemed a bit taken aback by the intimate exchange, watching in silent curiosity and anticipation. However, Flynn was also interested as to why she seemed to be speaking to someone she had not seen in years, like someone long lost, or a ghost. His brow furrowed as he searched her eyes for whatever she was holding back.

"There's a reason my future self didn't come along on this little excursion, isn't there?" He asked softly. She began to shake in his grasp, silently confirming what he had already guessed. He sighed and his gaze drifted somewhere distant and faraway, surprised that he was more affected by Future Lucy's apparent grief for his death than his own sense of loss at hearing he was no longer alive in their future timeline.

He felt Lucy's cold fingers cupping his stubbly cheek as she turned him to face her, and was breathtaken by the raw, exposed expression in her fathomless brown eyes.

"We came back hoping to save more than just Rufus." She whispered. "Hopefully we've made enough changes, so I- we'll never have to lose you."

Suddenly, Lucy understood all too well why her future self had never gone back to Sâo Paolo. The thought of losing him in the future only to travel back and set him on a path of pointless destruction was too cruel for words. 

Meanwhile, Flynn didn't miss how she'd almost said I instead of we before quickly correcting herself and moving away. Flynn already missed the warmth of her pressed against him as his eyes continued to follow her. She hastily made her way towards her scruffy bearded counterpart who was getting the stair platform into place.

"But just in case," Future Wyatt chimed in grimly. "Don't go back to New York, October 24th, 1929. Emma nearly managed to take out the whole team."

"Black Thursday? The stock market crash?" Present Lucy heard herself say. She had been watching the entire exchange with a mix of detached awe and confusion. She knew that there was definitely something brewing between her and Flynn as of late, but the way her future self had looked at him...It seemed like far more than just a passing fancy or simple friendly attachment. How could something be so thrilling and terrifying all at the same time, she wondered?

"That's our historian, always on the ball." Future Wyatt smirked before his expression faded into a somber, serious gaze. "Please, just keep each other safe." And with that he waved goodbye before ascending the metal steps to their lifeboat.

The rest of the group stood rooted to the spot as they watched the couple clamber back into their own time machine, Wyatt climbing in first to start the initiation sequence. Future Lucy swung one leg into the cockpit and paused as she sat in the rim of the hatch opening, her other leg hanging out the side as she stole one last glance at the team, now whole again with their missing piece returned to them. Her eyes drifted across all of them, before once again landing on her past self, who refused to meet her gaze.

"Lucy," She called out, her own name tasting strange in her mouth. "You are strong enough to go back to Rittenhouse, whether you know it or not."

Present Lucy shook her head fiercely. "I can't." She choked.

"You can. But whether or not you do is your choice, since we're all about decisions and freewill now, no more of that fate and destiny garbage, right?" Future Lucy said coyly, trying to get a rise out of her past self.

But present Lucy didn't take the bait, only looking up sorrowfully as she realized that she was lost in a world where she no longer knew what to believe, or if any choice was really hers to make.

"No matter what you do, just promise me one thing?" Future Lucy pleaded as she heard their lifeboat rumble to life while Wyatt coordinated the navigation and readied for the jump.

Present Lucy eyed her carefully. "What's that?"

After being broken in so many ways, she hoped that this was the one piece of advice that her past self would take to heart, to save them both the all too familiar pain of holding everything inside and bearing their burdens alone.

"You have to talk about what happened to you." She said solemnly. "It's the only way to get through it. Trust me, I know."

And with that she slipped inside the cockpit, the circular hatch door sliding securely into place as the metallic rings began to spin with greater and greater speed. Within a few minutes the upgraded lifeboat had disappeared, squeezed through the fabric of space time as they hurtled back towards an uncertain future. Meanwhile, the Lucy sitting back in the bunker had her own past to contend with, and more than a few questioning glances from her teammates.


	4. The Art of Being Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy reveals what happened to her during those six weeks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I didn't exactly go easy on Lucy in this one, our poor girl has faced lots of hurdles to be sure. Ever since season two started I've been super curious as to what happened to her during those six weeks with Rittenhouse, so I decided to flesh it out in full detail, and maybe even went a little overboard with how long this chapter is lol. It became too long so I'm going to have to continue the flashback in the next chapter. I wanted to make it dramatic, but also believable, because its really important to me to capture the essence of the show and create plausible plot lines that I think could actually happen. So let me know if you think my story accomplishes that. 
> 
> Also! I made some important updates to chapter 1 that you should definitely check out! Just added in some more dialogue towards the second half that I thought gave the interactions a little more texture and depth. Let me know what you think.

“What did she mean?” Wyatt began, his voice laced with concern as he turned to Lucy, who looked like she was holding it together by a thread. What else was she not telling them, what other burden was she stubbornly bearing on her own?

Lucy was still, hands clasped in her lap as she looked like she’d rather be anywhere else than in this moment, confronted by memories she wished she could forget. Her eyes danced across Wyatt’s face, unsure of where to begin, and if she really even wanted to. When she made no move to reply Wyatt started to approach her, but it was the sound of Flynn’s gravelly voice that snapped her out of her haze.

“What happened to you Lucy?” He asked quietly. Her eyes slid from Wyatt’s face to Flynn’s, both sporting the same furrowed brow and worried countenance as they peered at her expectantly. Flynn leaned with his back to the wall, arms crossed as he fixed her with a stare that made her feel as if he could see right through her and into her throbbing heart. _If only he didn’t know me so well,_ she cursed to herself, _then I wouldn’t be such an open book_.

“I’m surprised you don’t already know.” Lucy said with a humorless laugh, trying to avoid the subject as long as she could. “I thought that my future self would have mentioned something in the journal”.

The journal that was now secretly tucked away in her room, she remembered. 

“Mentioned something about what exactly?” He returned, his confusion and concern both growing in equal measure. If this was something she had opted to leave out of her diary, that could only mean that she had experienced something far more harrowing than she’d let on. Something too painful to commit to the written record.

Lucy sighed. “About my time with Rittenhouse.”

Everyone in the room looked at her with a mixture of pity and trepidation. Lucy had already been through so much in the last few months, apparently even more than they realized, and they all wondered just how much more she could take until it finally broke her for good.

“It’s okay, Luce. You can tell us.” Rufus assured her with the warm smile that she’d missed so desperately. “But only if you’re ready.”

She offered Rufus a small, but genuine smile of thanks, as he entreated her to share without pushing her. Because although she didn’t exactly relish being handled like a delicate piece of china that could shatter at any moment, she knew how close she was to being pushed over the edge, and so did they.

Lucy took a dragging breath, feeling her body begin to shake as she prepared to delve back into events that she had tried and failed to erase from her mind ever since her rescue and introduction to the bunker. These were things that she didn’t think she could survive a second time. Things that hurt to think about, let alone talk about, and Lucy had never really been much of a talker.

She also wasn’t exactly a fan of having such a big audience to her story, even if she did trust every single person in the room without question. All of those eyes peering into her broken soul as she recounted the most painful moments of her life, it was just too much. So, she opted to keep her eyes fixed on the center of the table, trying to convince herself she was just speaking out loud to an empty room where no one would hear her cry. 

And before she could talk herself out of it, the words came tumbling out of her mouth. She figured the best place to start was the beginning.

“The night that Mason Industries exploded was the night that we were planning to save Amy.” She said, her long lost sister’s face flashing in her mind. “But before I went on the mission, I decided to go home to say goodbye to my Mother. In my original timeline, she was sick, dying of lung cancer. So, once we changed the timeline back to normal, I didn’t know if I would ever see her again.” 

Her breath hitched at the mention of her mother, shot dead less than 24 hours ago, but she soldiered through.

“I came home and decided to tell her everything. About the time travel and the missions, and about Amy. I figured it didn’t really matter if she knew the truth or not, since our reality wouldn’t be the same when I got back from 1979.”

A single tear slid down her cheek as she mourned the fact that she never even got the chance, and that Amy was still lost. Possibly forever, thanks to Emma.

“But my mother had her own secrets to tell.” Lucy gulped for air. “Apparently, she decided that this was the most opportune moment to reveal that she had known about time travel all along, and was a member of Rittenhouse herself, practically their leader. And she informed me, in no uncertain terms, that Rittenhouse would never allow me to take a trip to bring back _some girl_ who no one else remembers, if it meant putting my mother’s future in jeopardy.”

Lucy remembered the initial shock of hearing the name Rittenhouse come out of her mother’s mouth while being wrapped in her arms. Her whole body had frozen, unable to move as she futilely willed her brain to rationalize what she had heard. The universe couldn’t take away the one person she had left in the world.

And yet apparently, it could. 

“The realization hit me like a train, and I pulled away from her, trying to make a run for the door. Grab my cell phone. Anything to get help.” She continued, her throat suddenly raw and dry. “But before I could make it so far as a few feet away, my mother had me pinned to the ground, stronger than I took her for, and stuck me in the arm with a needle that seemed to come out of nowhere. It struck me how premeditated it had all seemed, like she’d been planning to finally tell me, and knew exactly how I’d react. Anyway, I blacked out a few minutes later from the injection. The last thing I remember is my mom taking my head in her lap, telling me everything was going to be fine.” 

She steeled herself before closing her eyes, feeling a wistful longing to believe every other lie her mother had ever told her. Lucy inhaled a deep breath as she began to recount her six weeks of captivity, and every horrible thing she had endured along the way.

* * *

 

_Flashback_

The first thing she remembered was the terrifying feeling of waking up and not knowing where she was. She was in a lavishly furnished room illuminated in warm yellow light, sleeping in a comfortable bed and dressed in the same clothes she had been wearing the day before. She was even still wearing her shoes. Her head was throbbing as she swung her legs out of bed and struggled to remember what had happened. 

And then it dawned on her, and she immediately wanted to slip back into the blissful ignorance of sleep where the truth wouldn’t be so painfully staring her in the face.

Her mother was Rittenhouse. Her _mother_. Carol Preston, the historian, the professor, the only person she had left in the world was one of _them._ It still didn’t make any sense to her. How could the woman who raised her be a part of something so wretched and morally corrupt as Rittenhouse?

Blearily she also remembered Carol attacking her, knocking her to the ground before injecting her with some unknown drug. The idea that she had been literally kidnapped by her own mother still hadn’t entirely set in.

However, the knowledge that she was trapped seemed to creep up on her all too quickly. She began to panic as her eyes darted around the small space, noticing that there wasn’t a single window to the outside world, only a lone foreboding door that was sealed shut on the other end of the room. Her breathing hitched as the walls seemed to close in around her, despite the relative spaciousness of the room her claustrophobia was amplified by the fact that there was really nowhere to run.

But before she could slip into a full-blown anxiety attack the door to her room suddenly swung open, and there stood her mother, looking cheerful and ordinary as ever. Everything about Carol looked so tantalizingly normal that it made Lucy’s skin crawl, now knowing the truth about the type of person who lurked beneath. But what did she know really? She knew her mother was a member, and one of great importance apparently, but beyond that she was mostly in the dark. She needed to learn more, if only to have more information to go on once the team inevitably rescued her. She couldn’t give up hope; it was the only thing that would keep her sane.

“Mom?” She whispered, feeling like a whimpering child. “What’s going on?”

Carol eyed her tenderly before coming to sit beside her on the bed. “Everything’s okay, sweetheart. You’re with Rittenhouse now.”

“What does that mean exactly? Where are we?”

“Rittenhouse headquarters. We are somewhere close to home. That’s all you need to know for now.”

Lucy’s initial reaction was one of pure frustration. What right did her mother have to keep any more secrets from her? And yet despite her attempt to be angry she was suddenly overwhelmed by a sense of helplessness as she no longer recognized the person she was speaking to. She felt her eyes well up with tears as a strangled sob forced its way from her throat before she could stop it.

“Oh honey, don’t cry. It will all make sense soon.” Carol said soothingly as she brushed away Lucy’s tears. She still flinched away from her mother’s touch despite her instinctual urge to lean in to it. Carol noticed but paid no mind, smiling at her daughter warmly.

“Why are you doing this?” Lucy asked shakily, not sure she really wanted to hear the answer.

Carol sighed. “Because it’s time for you to learn the truth about your place, Lucy. About what and who you’re meant to be.” 

Between Flynn and her mother, she was starting to get pretty sick of the whole 'I know who you’re meant to be' mantra.

“I should have told you sooner. It would have made your transition easier and saved us a lot of trouble and time. But I put it off for years because your role comes with great responsibility. It isn’t something to be taken lightly, and I didn’t want to burden you with it any sooner than I had to.”

“And what made you decide that _last night_ was the right time?” Lucy demanded. Carol gave her a knowing look.

“Maybe something to do with the antics you and your time travelling partners just pulled? We can’t exactly turn a blind eye to the incarceration of over two hundred members, Lucy. Including your own father."

Lucy's stomach involuntarily flipped at the mention of Benjamin Cahill, and the fact that Carol referred to him as Lucy's father so freely. It made her sick. 

"Not to mention the fact that you were about to embark on some ill-advised trip to save this Amy you keep rambling on about-”

“She’s your _daughter_.” Lucy cut her off. “How can you not care what happens to her?”

“Lucy, this person doesn’t exist. They’re from another life, another reality. And if what you say is true about her making me sick, I’m not going to trade my life for hers.”

In that moment Lucy knew that the person sitting beside her was not the Carol Preston she knew, and her heart broke for the mother that she remembered and would never see again. The Carol Preston she knew would do anything for her daughters, would go to the moon and back for either of them, and this wasn’t her. Furthermore, she was now even more terrified of the woman whose eyes were peering into her own, because she didn’t _know_ her. She had no way of predicting what she would do next, or how far she would go.

“Sweetheart, I need you to come with me.” Carol said gently, but also in a way that indicated it wasn’t really a request.

Lucy hesitated before asking, “Where are we going?”

“We need to debrief you on all of your missions. All of the time spent at Mason Industries up until now.”

“I thought that’s what the recording devices were for.” Lucy scoffed, crossing her arms.

Carol eyed her pointedly. “You and I both know that Mr. Carlin tampered with those recordings, sometimes he even went so far as to erase them entirely. Needless to say, there’s large stretches of time unaccounted for and we need to know what happened.”

With that Carol stood and made her way to the door, pausing at the threshold to turn and watch her daughter expectantly. Lucy could see fluorescent lights and an empty hallway beyond the door but held her ground where she sat on the mattress, staring back at her mother in silent challenge. Carol frowned and shook her head.

“If you won’t come willingly, we have other ways of making you cooperate.” She warned. Lucy shivered at the unguarded threat behind her mother’s words and quietly weighed her options before deciding she’d rather just walk to the interrogation rather than be dragged.

She sighed in resignation before rising from the bed and making her way towards her mother, who didn’t even try to hide the look of satisfaction on her face as Lucy followed her obediently into the hallway. It was so bright that she had to blink to adjust her vision, her head still throbbing slightly from whatever her mother used to sedate her the night before.

She followed her mother down a series of stark white, brightly lit hallways with multiple doors leading to unknown rooms. Saw no one, heard nothing. It was as if they were the only two people in the entire building, but Lucy was sure that couldn’t be true, especially if this was Rittenhouse headquarters. They just had to be sequestering her from everybody else, and she wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing.

They finally reached whatever room Carol was looking for as she came to a stop and knocked on the door before it quickly swung open. Inside Lucy could see two men sitting at a metal table with a third chair positioned on the other side laying empty, presumably for her. Lucy began to internally panic at the thought of another small room with no windows but did her best to hold it together. 

“Just be honest, Lucy, and tell them everything that happened. I won’t be able to protect you if you refuse.”

“Protect me? Protect me from what?” Lucy asked nervously. But before she could turn around her mother gave her a small shove at the small of her back, causing her to tumble forward into the room before the door closed shut behind her with a click.

Her mother had left her in the hands of Rittenhouse goons. Lucy was on her own. 

“Miss Preston, would you please have a seat?”

And so, the interrogation began.

They drilled her for hours non-stop, going in chronological order from the Hindenburg all the way to the Rittenhouse summit in 1954, asking her every question under the sun. How did the timeline change? What was the original historical outcome? What did Garcia Flynn tell you about Rittenhouse? Why did you help him? Who killed David Rittenhouse? What did Flynn have you do while you were his prisoner? Were you actively trying to destroy Rittenhouse as well? To what extent are Mr. Carlin and Mr. Logan involved?

She answered everything more or less honestly. Although she did consider lying, she saw no point in fabricating what happened on the missions, since it didn’t matter to her one way or another if they knew about her digressions against Rittenhouse. She had no intention of trying to get in their good graces anyway. If anything, she wanted to make it clear that she was adamantly against Rittenhouse and would never be one of them so long as she lived.

And then came the one question she couldn’t answer. 

“Who gave you all of the information necessary to arrest over 200 Rittenhouse members?” 

All the blood drained from her face as all the air was simultaneously sucked from her lungs, knowing that this information was too precious to simply give away. 

Ethan. Her own flesh and blood. Her grandfather. A double agent and a rebel standing alone, just like she was now. She couldn’t betray him. She wouldn’t.

“I wasn’t involved in the identification and prosecution of the Rittenhouse targets. That was handled by Homeland Security.” She lied, hoping she could feign ignorance and get away with it. But as fate would have it, luck was not on her side.

The older of the pair eyed her skeptically. “We know you orchestrated the entire operation and were key in delivering said information. So, I’ll ask again, where did you get it?”

Realizing that they weren’t going to buy any further lies, Lucy decided it was better to just say nothing at all, and let her silence speak for her.

And that turned out to be a very bad idea. 

After a few seconds of silence had passed the agent shrugged with disinterest before saying, “Have it your way.” 

Suddenly both men simultaneously rose and circled around the table towards her, seizing her by the arms and dragging her forward despite her attempts to fight them off. Her cries died down a touch as she realized they were hauling her towards the back of the room and not towards the door. However, her confusion didn’t last long as one of the goons released her only to kneel to the ground and grasp a metal latch attached to one the wood panels, yanking it up to reveal a small space underneath the floor about the size of a coffin.

“No.” Lucy trembled. _No no no._

But her protests fell on deaf ears as the men easily threw her into the small compartment below, slamming the lid shut and sealing her in darkness within a matter of seconds.

“We’ll come back in a few hours, after you’ve had some time to think things over.” One of them sneered. Then they were gone, and Lucy was left alone with only the sound of her blood rushing in her ears as her heart thumped erratically in her chest. She didn’t even have enough space to entirely stretch out her arms and legs, the space just barely accommodating the size of her small form. It was the worst sort of torture they could have chosen for her, and they knew it too, because Carol knew. It was with a detached sort of horror that Lucy realized that her own mother had revealed the most effective method of torture to use on her, seeing as only Carol would know about Lucy’s car accident and the resulting claustrophobic tendencies. She had to learn to stop being surprised by these things, but doubted she ever would.

For the first hour or so she just kicked and screamed, clawed with her nails and pounded her fists against the lid of the compartment until her hands were bruised and bloodied. The next hour was mostly spent crying and feeling sorry for herself, while the rest of her confinement was filled with nothing but silence and her own ragged breathing as she hugged her limbs close in the fetal position, wanting nothing more than to curl into a ball and disappear. She did her best to breathe as quietly as she could and move as little as possible, despite being in the middle of a full-blown panic attack. What little rational thought she could manage lead to trying to let her mind go blank in the silence, theoretically allowing her to forget where she was and what was happening to her.

It didn’t work.

She had no idea exactly how much time had passed once the two men returned for her. She was dazed and disoriented as they roughly pulled her out, taking her first deep breath in hours as her body emerged from the would-be coffin. But the sense of relief was short lived, as she knew she was going to be asked the same question, and that she was going to give the same answer.

It became a sort of routine. Day in and day out she would be escorted to the interrogation room, and they would undergo the formality of asking her where the information had come from, knowing that she wouldn’t tell them. It seemed that her two interrogators took some pleasure in her daily torture, sometimes varying it slightly in the hope of eliciting some sort of response. They mostly cycled between the dreaded whole in the floor and the occasional waterboarding session; pretty much anything to emulate the sense of drowning and being trapped in small spaces. They were really using the traumatic experience of her car crash for all it was worth.

Though the most disturbing part of the whole affair wasn’t the torture itself, not at all. It was what came after.

Every evening after the interrogation ended she was dragged back to her little prison of a bedroom, left to recuperate for another bout of hardship the next morning. And after a few minutes a knock would sound at the door, and Lucy always cringed with the knowledge of who was on the other side.

Each night after Lucy’s daily round of torture, Carol Preston arrived to comfort her daughter. 

The first night Lucy had been outraged.

“I don’t want your sympathy.” She had spat, backing away. “This is _your_ fault. You’re letting them do this to me!”

The second night had been more or less the same. She didn’t need anything from this woman, this monster, let alone a shoulder to cry on. As far as she was concerned this person was no longer her mother. She would not depend on the same person who was allowing her to be abused. She could get through this, she just had to trust the team. They would come for her eventually.

Yet as the days passed and the physical and emotional pain became more intense Lucy started to falter. A week had passed, and she was living the same hell everyday over and over. She was an emotional wreck, half the time completely numbed to everything, and the other half just drowning in the turmoil of pain that threatened to overtake her every waking moment. It was simply too much to bear, and one night she snapped. 

Or rather, she collapsed, right into her mother’s open arms.

It was almost too easy to do. The soft texture of her golden hair against Lucy’s nose and the scent of her mother’s lavender perfume surrounding her as she clung to the other woman for dear life. Everything about it was all at once familiar and foreign, dangerous yet secure as she knowingly held fast to the one person who was responsible for causing her so much pain. It was the worst kind of psychological mind game, and one that Lucy was not likely to soon forget.

“All you have to do is tell them who it is, Lucy.” Carol had said as she stroked her daughter’s hair. “Then this will all be over.”

But if there was one thing that Lucy held onto during her entire ordeal so far, it was her sense of loyalty. To Ethan, to her team, to herself. She was not one to be easily swayed and resolutely decided she would endure every torture under the sun before she betrayed anyone she loved. 

And then, suddenly, there was no one left to be loyal to.

It was the most surreal moment of Lucy’s life, which was saying something, considering the type of life she’d been leading lately. It was the moment that something inside her was forever damaged, like her will to live just dissipated into thin air, leaving her a hollow shell of a person untethered by anything or anyone.

Her mother had left the newspaper next to that day’s plate of untouched food on Lucy’s dresser before saying, “There’s something you need to see.”

Lucy had approached the newspaper slowly, unsure of what she was about to learn, and if it was something she really wanted to know. 

And then her entire world shattered.

 _Deadly explosion devastates Mason Industries. 22 presumed dead._

_“_ This wasn’t my call, Lucy. But it had to be done. I’m sorry.” Her mother’s words were a distant ringing in her ears.

_Dead. Dead. Dead. All of her friends. Wyatt, Rufus, Jiya, Denise. Everyone was dead._

No one was coming. 

She could understand why the first stage of grief was labelled denial, because that was exactly what she did. It was her lifeline, her rock in the raging storm around her, and the only thing that kept her from entirely losing herself. She immediately accused her mother of lying, of forging the paper and fabricating the whole thing in order to force Lucy to cooperate. It was an easy conclusion to jump to.

But when Lucy refused to believe it, her mother turned on the local news channel, and suddenly denial was no longer in the cards.

Her grief was deep enough to drown in, and she did. She let it envelop her without protest, because she suddenly had no more reason to resist, no one left to fight for. She stopped eating what little morsels she had been forcing down before and just allowed herself to waste away. The fight had been drained from her soul, and she couldn’t seem to find the strength or the motivation to keep going. She was all alone in this, the last one standing, and now she had been brought to her knees.

She told them everything. Losing the team had been the last straw, and with that she lost whatever resolve she had to keep secrets for the ‘other side’. There wasn’t any resistance to return to anyway.

The guilt of betraying her grandfather still squeezed her heart in all the wrong places, but she had shut it all out and tied up every loose heartstring, turned everything off until all she could feel was a dull ache in her chest.

As it turned out, she was informed that Ethan had peacefully passed away of old age a few days before Lucy’s capture. And for the first time since her imprisonment Lucy felt herself smile, knowing at least one of them had escaped Rittenhouse’s evil clutches, one way or another. In a strange way, his death almost made her feel lighter. Because for once, Rittenhouse was too late. For once Rittenhouse didn't win, since Ethan passed out of life on his own terms, and not theirs. Ironically, it felt like a victory. 

After that something in Lucy started to change. It was like waking up after a long, hazy dream as she suddenly realized she needed to get a grip and _do_ something. Her sheer and utter hatred for Rittenhouse bubbled up inside her as the faces of everyone she had lost materialized in her mind. She couldn’t let Rittenhouse take anything else from her, or from anyone for that matter. And if her team couldn’t be there to stop them, she would just have to go it alone.

So, she drifted through the following weeks, pulling herself together the best she could as her mother shoved Rittenhouse propaganda down her throat. Most of it went in one ear and out the other, although some of their archaic, conservative, backwards beliefs occasionally elicited an unconscious reaction from her. But there was always the threat of throwing her in the coffin if she decided to stop cooperating, which she was eager to avoid. If anything, she tried to view the whole thing as profitable intelligence gathering, despite the fact that she didn’t have anyone to share it with, she still mentally catalogued any useful information she could get her hands on. With her indoctrination came the family history lessons and interminable lectures from her mother about Rittenhouse policies and ideals, as well as her introduction to many high-ranking Rittenhouse members who viewed her with a simultaneous sense of awe and thinly veiled scrutiny. It appeared everyone was very well aware of who she was, and everything she’d been up to. Sometimes her mother wasn’t around, as apparently being the leader of an evil underground cult organization left one with much business to attend to. And much to her dismay Lucy was often left under the careful watch of Emma, who regarded her with obvious disdain as she taunted Lucy with the death of her friends, trying to test for cracks in her newfound loyalty to Rittenhouse. Lucy never wavered though, simply letting Emma’s aggressions fuel her inner resolve as she put on the best acting show of her life. 

But most days Lucy was left alone in her bedroom, like a princess locked away in her tower. Judging by most people’s reaction to her presence here she could gage that the term princess wasn’t actually that far off, considering how everyone always turned to stare and shamelessly whisper whenever she walked by. It was beyond annoying and even a little unnerving. After all, she had never been one to savor in being the center of attention.

Although one day, the title princess became all too real.

Her mother had come by for their usual evening chat, sitting to talk with Lucy over her lunch. She was eating a little more now, if only to keep up the appearance of good health. She had to at least try to seem like she was getting better if she was going to get anywhere.

Carol looked up at Lucy over the rim of her tea cup. “Lucy, there’s something we need to discuss.” 

 _Well this can’t be anything good._ Lucy thought as she put down her fork and knife, eyeing her mother cautiously.

“I hope this isn’t anything like the last time you said those words.” Lucy huffed. Her mother shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

“I’ve been to the doctor recently and received some troubling news.” Carol began, a frown tugging at her lips. “You said I was sick in the other timeline, didn’t you? Lung cancer, was it?”

Lucy’s mouth parted in momentary surprise, suddenly overwhelmed by a cascade of conflicting emotions, as she had no idea how to feel about the possibility of her mother dying. Would she be sad? Relieved? She honestly couldn’t say. Finally, Lucy replied, “Yes, Stage 4 Adenocarcinoma. You were a smoker.”

Carol’s nose crinkled distastefully at that. “Well in one manner or another it seems to have caught up to me, smoker or not.” She said mournfully. “There’s a malignant tumor in my right lung cavity. They’ve caught it in the early stages, and they are going to do everything they can. But nevertheless, it’s time to start planning for the future.”

Lucy didn’t follow. “Planning for the future, what do you mean?” 

Carol shrugged. “I’m not getting any younger Lucy. Whether it’s the cancer or simply old age, I’m not going to be around forever, and someone has to be around to carry on the family line.”

It took a few moments for Carol’s words to set in completely. _Carry on the family line._ But within a few moments something clicked, and Lucy struggled to bite back a gasp of terror.

“You-you need me to have _children_ to carry on our bloodline? Isn’t it enough that _I’m_ already living and breathing?” Lucy asked incredulously, not that she had any interest in being the next in line to take over Rittenhouse after her mother inevitably passed away. She still had to suppress the urge to be sick upon mentioning the whole business of bloodlines, and exactly who hers was traced back to. When her mother revealed the true nature of their lineage and the practically 'royal' status attached to their direct connection to David Rittenhouse, Lucy had nearly collapsed right then and there, as the image of her ancestor's cold, ruthless eyes flared in her memory. She would never be able to mentally reconcile the insane fact that her great great grandfather had shamelessly inspected her like a piece of property before nearly assaulting her. Just another thing to add to the list of other crazy, impossible, twisted things in her life.

“Unfortunately, the other members of the board still don’t entirely trust you. They’re convinced you’re still working for the other side and want a guarantee that the bloodline will continue if something…goes wrong.” Her mother finished lamely, unsure of how to put a positive spin on the possibility of her daughter not living to carry on her legacy for one reason or another.

“It may have escaped your notice mother but I’m not exactly involved with anyone at the moment, so unless you’re planning on marrying me off to the highest bidder I don’t know where you expect your perfect heir to come from.” Lucy shuddered, wondering if her mother really would force some sort of arranged marriage on her just to ensure the family legacy.

“That’s not true Lucy, you were engaged to Noah until you decided to call it quits. What about him? He is quite the-”

“Wait a minute. Are you telling me that Noah is Rittenhouse?” Lucy demanded, nearly falling out of her chair at her jump of shock. It turned out there were always more surprises apparently, but her mind was still reeling.

“Of course he is, Lucy. Do you really think you’d be marrying anyone who wasn’t?” Carol seemed almost exasperated with Lucy’s cluelessness. Meanwhile Lucy was attempting to compartmentalize her abject horror at just how much control Rittenhouse and her mother really had over her life all along, and she never even knew. Furthermore, something else didn’t make sense.

“But then why would Noah help us? Why would he save Rufus’ life if he knew we were fighting Rittenhouse?” She asked curiously, her heart twisting at the mention of Rufus, just another person who had slipped through her fingers, lost to her forever.

“Honey, he saved Rufus’ life because he loves you and would do anything for you.” Carol said, reaching a hand across the table to cup Lucy’s cheek. “But he was still loyal. He informed us of your location as soon as he finished operating on your friend, although by the time we arrived only Agent Christopher was there to greet us. You’d already gone.” 

Lucy fought the urge to slap her mother’s hand away. “Mom I hardly even know him. I’m from a different timeline, remember? I was never engaged to anyone.”

Carol waved her hand dismissively. “Know him or not, he’s your best option Lucy. You'll learn to love him.”

“No! _”_ Lucy yelled shrilly as she stood up from the table, her chair knocking back and hitting the floor with a clatter. She glared at her mother with all the steely resolve and reluctance she could muster, unable to repress her growing sense of outrage and fear any longer as she finally allowed herself one act of resistance. One time where her voice had to be heard. “I will _not_ be married off and bred like an animal. If you care about me at all this is the one thing that you won’t make me do.”

To Lucy’s surprise, her mother dropped the issue almost instantly and didn’t bring it up again. Carol was apparently somewhat taken aback by her daughter’s adamant refusal, as Lucy had been a perfectly pliable and obedient daughter over the last few weeks, at least leading up to this point. But she didn’t push, for which Lucy was eternally grateful.

Little did she know she wasn’t out of the woods just yet.   


	5. A Heart on the Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucy finishes telling her story, right to the bitter end. Family bunker bonding ensues, spear-headed by mama bear Denise of course, after which there is fluff, feels (garcy), and a very conflicted Lucy who, as always, is putting everyone else's needs above her own...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here we are, the end of the flashback. I had a serious internal debate for exactly how I wanted to end her story, and it felt weird being the one to decide how much Lucy had to go through, but I think what I ended up writing is equal parts dramatic and also believable, like something Rittenhouse would actually do. (Warning: Attempted Assault), key word attempted, not actual. Don't worry, nothing too crazy or graphic and it's pretty much a canonical level of violence that we have seen within the show. I would never write anything that terrible. I love Lucy too much to do that, and I want her to be strong. ANYWAY, now that the flashback is finally over (so long I know), we can get back to comforting the bunker babies and all of the ships AND mysterious plot lines that have yet to be fully realized (aka all of the good stuff), I promise that this story is actually going somewhere interesting as I'm essentially writing a season 3 at this point, soooo...enjoy!

_Continue Flashback_

After Lucy's outburst Carol for once had the presence of mind to take a hint and left Lucy to her thoughts, promising that she would be back in a few hours to bring her something for dinner. But Lucy hardly heard her. The whole world was nothing more than a faint buzzing in her ears as her mother's chilling words continued on a relentless reel in her head. 

_Carry on the family line._

If her own mother was willing to marry her off, to practically sell her like a thoroughbred to the highest bidder without any remorse, then Lucy really had lost the last person she had in the world. In fact, she wondered if she ever really had her mother to begin with. But that was a question she wasn't sure she could ever bring herself to truthfully answer. 

However, the absolute hardest part, Lucy decided, was that she could never stop loving her mother. 

It was an impossible mental battle that pulled on her heartstrings every time her mother spoke, every time she tucked a stray strand of hair behind Lucy's ear, or any other number of maternal gestures that threatened to overshadow the twisted, abominable nature of what Carol was a part of. How can you possibly love someone who condoned your own torture, who is responsible for the death of your friends, who lied to you your entire life? Yet she could, and she did, no matter how much she tried not to. Her heart was at war with itself every time Carol walked into the room, and it was all she could do not to unleash that torrent of emotions whenever she found herself in her mother's company. She couldn't afford to give in to the despair eating away at her insides. If she was going to make her mother trust her, make Rittenhouse trust her, she had to pull it together. She had to compartmentalize, had to shut it all out. There was no time to wallow in her grief, not if she wanted to put an end to all of this. And although she had no idea exactly how she was going to fight back, she knew that somehow, someway, she would not let them win. 

It was while on this train of thought, sometime later, that she distantly heard the door to her bedroom open from behind. She realized she was still seated at her little dining table, her back to the door, having not moved since her mother left. It was hard to tell time in her little prison, with no windows allowing the sunlight to cast shadows throughout the day. Consequently, she wasn't surprised that apparently hours had passed her by, feeling more like minutes. 

"Not really in the mood to talk, mother." Lucy grumbled over her shoulder without turning around.

But it wasn't her mother's voice who greeted her.

"Hello, beautiful." She heard a man say. 

Lucy had to fight the urge to whip her head around in surprise, already knowing who was standing behind her. She felt her muscles seize up as the familiar lilt of his words rang in her ears, throwing her back to the night of their engagement party, or as Lucy liked to the think of it, the night she first met him. It was an odd choice of words, she thought, and definitely deliberate, which made her all the more nervous.

She finally forced herself to turn around and found that he was standing only a few feet away, a lazy grin on his lips as he took pleasure in her shocked reaction.

"Noah." She breathed, forcing herself to remain calm. He looked much the same as the last time she saw him. Same carefully styled brown waves of hair and tasteful stubble along the hard lines of his jaw. He looked rather dressed up, sporting a two-piece navy suit and tie, as if he had just come from an important meeting. They were at Rittenhouse headquarters after all, perhaps Noah was far more involved in their leadership than she realized.

She gulped before asking, "What are you doing here?"

"I work here." He said simply. "Just like your mother does. Just like you will once this whole mess is sorted out."

Lucy didn't want to even contemplate what working for Rittenhouse would entail, suppressing a shiver at the thought that everyone seemed to have a step by step program lined up for her life, where she was always the last one clued in on the plan.

"But what are you doing  _here,_  with me." Lucy's voice trembled slightly as she backed up a step. She could feel her panic tightening like a vise around her throat, making it difficult to breathe as she eyed him cautiously, all too aware of the danger she had found herself in. Noah couldn't have just stopped by for a friendly chat. She'd been here for nearly five weeks already, so why come now? Had her mother sent him?

Noah shrugged, taking a deep breath as she saw an array of emotions play across his features, none of which she was able to decipher. He seemed to be searching for the right words to say before settling on, "I've missed you, Lucy."

She nearly cringed at the unguarded affection in his tone, unsure of whether she should pity or fear him. "Noah, I-I don't  _know_  you. I don't know if my mother told you-"

"That you've been time traveling and that you're from a different reality? Yeah, she told me." He cut her off gruffly. "Not exactly easy to hear. But at least now you tramping around dressed up like Jackie O. is finally starting to make some sense."

"You say that as if I had some obligation to tell you." She snapped, unable to help herself. How dare he speak to her as if this was all somehow her fault? He drew an anxious breath. 

"We're engaged, Lucy-"

"We  _were_  engaged-"

"You could have told me! You should have known you could trust me!"

"Trust you? Did you not hear a word I said? I hardly know you!"

She didn't know how many times she could tell him before he would get it through his head, that she was not the Lucy he fell in love with. And therefore, was in no way obligated to tell him anything. In her anger she had unconsciously moved closer to him, and now found herself looking directly into his blazing eyes as he craned his neck to look down at her. He gingerly reached out a hand, his fingertips brushing her cheek.

"But I know you." He said softly, a quiet yearning in his voice. It was all she could do not to physically flinch away from his touch.

"No, you don't." She sighed, exasperated. "You knew  _a_ Lucy. We've been over this, Noah. I'll never be her."

She was about to step away, put some distance between them, when his arm suddenly shot forward, lightening quick, snatching her small wrist in his large fingers.

"But you could know me." He whispered fervently, drawing her back to him. "We could find our way back to each other."

"You can't find your way back to something if you were never there." She said harshly. "Now let go of me."

She tried to wrench her wrist out of his grip but he was stronger, only tightening his fingers further as he pulled her arm against his chest.

"Why fight me, Lucy? Wouldn't you rather be with someone who loves you? You know they're going to set you up with someone sooner rather than later, so why not be with me?"

"Because I'm not interested in being married off to a stranger. And because I don't love you." She said in a low voice, knowing her words would hurt him, but hoping he'd get the message.

His eyes hardened at that, fixing her with a glare that abruptly caused her to go still in anticipation as his eyes searched her own. Evidently, he didn't find whatever he was looking for. 

"But you will." He growled. And suddenly, without warning, his lips were on hers. 

Only then did the true danger of the situation really set in, her fear seeping like a chill into her bones as she realized he wasn't going to take no for an answer. Even though she'd only known him for a short time, she'd never pegged Noah for a violent, abusive sort of guy, too swept up in his seemingly innocent charm and sincerity. But it just went to show how little she really knew him as she writhed fitfully in his grasp. It was the circumstance that every woman dreaded finding herself in, and one in which she wasn't likely to get away unscathed. But if Lucy knew how to do anything, it was put up a fight. 

His mouth moved on hers with an aggressive hunger as his free hand snaked around her waist, pulling her impossibly closer. In response she jerked her head to the side, out of the reach of his lips as she gathered all of her strength and slammed her hands against his chest, pushing him away. As they briefly lost contact Lucy made a run for the open door, but she had barely made it more than two strides away when she was suddenly yanked backwards. Noah's hand was fisted in the material of her blouse as he gripped her by the collar, pulling her backwards as she stumbled into the room, her knees hitting the edge of the bed as she fell onto the mattress. 

 _Flat on my back is the last place I need to be right now._ She thought in a panic. 

Before she could do so much as sit up, let alone make a run for it, Noah was there above her on all fours, one knee on the mattress and one leg hanging off the side with both of his hands placed on either side of her head. His body was like a cage around her. 

"You might not remember what this feels like, but I do." He smirked, a devilish glint in his eye as he leaned in to seal his lips on hers a second time. Lucy reached out to push him away but he caught her wrists easily, pinning them to the bed.

 _How was I ever engaged to this creep?_  She wondered despairingly. Without her hands, she had to resort to other methods of resistance. Devoid of other options, Lucy began to respond to Noah's intense kisses, to which he was pleasantly surprised, humming appreciatively into her mouth as he slightly loosened his hold on her wrists. Tentatively, she opened up to him, suppressing the urge to recoil as his tongue traced the outline of her lips. 

 _Just long enough to distract him._ She told herself.

"God, I've missed this." He murmured feverishly.

Eventually he abandoned his hold on her wrists all together, opting to wrap them tightly around her waist instead as he pressed himself against her insistently. After a few moments she sucked on his bottom lip, and, having had enough of his unwanted caresses, brought it between her teeth before biting down hard enough to taste blood. He cried out in pain and immediately drew away, after which Lucy managed to knee him in the gut, nearly knocking the wind out of him. Seeing he was distracted, Lucy attempted to wriggle out from under him, but unfortunately, he recovered faster than she thought. 

He caught her easily despite her attempts to struggle, and in his anger and pain he lifted his hand back, barely registering the look of terror in Lucy's eyes as he backhanded her across the face, the blunt force of his knuckles colliding with her cheek enough to make her see stars. Her head snapped sharply to the right, knocking against the surface of the mattress as she blinked away tears. 

"You shouldn't have done that." He snarled, his voice low and dangerous as he wiped away the blood from his mouth, panting slightly. 

"Please, just leave me alone." She replied blearily, her head still spinning from the force of the blow. 

He shook his head, looming over her. "You know I can't do that, Lucy. We're meant to be together. That's how it's always been." He said, leaning closer. "And that's how it always will be."

With that, she could feel him starting to unbutton the top of her blouse, and if she thought she had felt adrenaline before, it was no match for the surge of panic coursing through her now. She fought like an animal, clawed at him like a cat as she raked her fingernails over his skin, anything to get a reaction just to make him stop. She refused to be violated like this. She would die first. 

Noah was hardly impeded by Lucy's protests, easily batting away her pesky hands as he worked his way down her shirt, his fingers roaming deftly over her exposed skin as he touched her everywhere he could reach. Never had she felt more powerless or helpless in her entire life. She thought that this was it, knowing she wouldn't be able to fight him off, almost resigned to what she knew was about to happen, and then-

"Lucy?"

Never before in her life had she been more grateful to hear her mother's voice.

"Mom." Lucy cried, her eyes locking with Carol's over Noah's shoulder. 

Carol was all burning fire and seething maternal fury as she stood there, fists clenched and eyes narrowed to slits. Despite her age and deceivingly delicate air, Carol Preston held herself with the confidence and disdain of a leader whose toes had just been unwittingly tread upon, and even Lucy was a little taken aback by the unguarded rage in her mother's gaze. 

"Get your hands off my daughter, now."

And just like that, it was over. The weight of Noah's body was quickly withdrawn, and after some hushed arguing between him and her mother, during which Carol gave him more than half of her mind, he was gone, almost as if he had never been there to begin with. But he had been there, and it was an encounter Lucy would never forget. 

"Did you send him?" Lucy asked accusingly as she sat up on the bed, her voice small and ragged as she struggled to take deep breaths. Her skin burned where Noah's hands had trailed across her body, and all she wanted to do was take a shower to wash away every trace of his touch. 

"Of course I didn't send him. I would never do that to you." Carol exclaimed, clearly hurt that Lucy believed her to be capable of something so abhorrent, despite all the other forms of torture she had allowed her daughter to be subjected to. 

Carol was calmer now, as if what had just occurred was nothing more than a typical, trivial nuisance rather than a narrowly escaped assault. She was so unnervingly composed that Lucy thought she might be going crazy as her mother nonchalantly straightened her clothes for her, since Lucy herself seemed unable to conjure the strength to move. 

Buttoning up her daughter's blouse as if it were the most normal thing in the world, Carol said quietly, "I'm so sorry Lucy, this won't happen again. I promise."

It was the first apology out of her mother's mouth that sounded even remotely genuine, and Lucy nearly sobbed with relief as her mother pulled her close and uttered tender reassurances in her ear, finally protecting her the way a mother should. 

"Thank you." Lucy gasped out. "Thank you for stopping him."

The twisted idea that she had to be gracious towards her mother for stepping in against Noah's brazen advances, as if her mother was doing her some sort of favor, was a fact she was too emotionally overwhelmed to currently contend with. 

"You don't have to worry about Noah anymore. You won't be seeing him again." 

Lucy expelled a sigh of relief as her mother was finally starting to make some rational sense, letting some of the tension leave her body as she relished in the fact that she'd never have to worry about another unwanted encounter. 

Then, as Carol started to pull away, she smiled slightly before adding the one detail that forced Lucy to remember exactly where she was, and who had come to her proverbial rescue. 

"We'll just have to find someone else to pair you with."

Just when Lucy thought she had seen a light in the darkness, a sliver of the mother she knew come to the surface, the world was turned on its head once again. Although this time Lucy could hardly say she was surprised. No, she was tired. Tired of the hollow feeling of disappointment that rotted like a dead thing in her chest, that was starting to consume her. 

But beyond the exhaustion, she was overcome by a sense of burning hatred. She had come to terms with the fact that she could never hate her mother, not entirely anyway. But she could without a doubt hate Rittenhouse, and everything that they stood for. She would never be the propagator of their lineage, she decided. Refused to be forced into an arranged marriage and used as some sort of broodmare for all intents and purposes. She had already lost so much, and refused to sacrifice something so precious as her own dignity in such a way.

For the second time since being imprisoned, she felt an emblazoned urge to destroy Rittenhouse all on her own, to bring it all crashing down.  

So, she let her contempt preoccupy her, let it fuel what little reserves of energy she had left as she resumed the role of dutiful daughter. She had decided she would do whatever it took to make them trust her, to prove her loyalty. Anything to get a chance to go with her mother on the mothership, to get to time travel one last time. She didn’t care where they went, or what they were sent there to do. Her mind was made up. If she got the chance, she would make sure that the mothership wouldn’t be making a return trip to the present, resolutely accepting her fate to live the rest of her life in some distant past.

One day, at the end of her interminable six weeks, that chance finally presented itself. Her mother commended her on finally proving herself, on having come so far.

Lucy could only smile in reply. If only her mother knew what she really had in store.

She had no idea if she would really be able to kill her mother, if it came down to that. But she couldn’t dwell on questions she had no way of answering. All there was to do was focus on the mission.

 _One problem at a time._ Wyatt’s familiar voice echoed in her mind, somehow comforting and heartbreaking all at once.

She had no way of knowing that the two people she was presently mourning would be waiting for her all the way back in 1918, bridging a century to find her. Had no way of knowing that Emma’s ruthlessness would lead to Lucy taking her first innocent life, the ultimate test of her so called loyalty. There was simply no way to predict what would happen, to account for all the variables, and know if they would manage to fall into place.

All she knew was that she was going to bring down Rittenhouse once and for all…Or die trying.

* * *

 

_End Flashback_

Lucy didn't realize she was shaking until she stopped speaking, the world suddenly coming back into focus as she remembered where she was. She was safe. It was over, for now. 

The silence was deafening as they all could do nothing but stare. To say they were shocked would have been an eggregious understatement. It was no secret that Rittenhouse was terrible, a shady clandestine organization intent on keeping the whole of America and possibly the world pinned under their all-knowing thumb, but none of them knew just how cruel and heartless their inner workings truly were, until now. Furthermore, none of them had known just how far Lucy's mother was willing to go, how far she had gone. How she had essentially abandoned her daughter to the wolves, all in the name of a loyalty that superseded her own responsibilities as a mother. It was sickening at best and unforgivable at worst. All of their heart's collectively broke for their historian, who had nearly lost everything, including herself, in the midst of a war that had no mercy. 

When Lucy finally looked up, she wasn't at all surprised by what she saw.

Connor looked sympathetic, supportive even, despite his obvious discomfort at the tense atmosphere of the room.

Rufus looked at her with all the pure compassion and gentleness there was in the world, gazing at her intently in a way that undeniably said,  _I'm always here for you if you need me._

Jiya, on the other hand, seemed like she was about to burst into tears after hearing all that Lucy had endured, with pity practically welling out of her eyes and streaming down her face. Jiya had already been on the inside of the Rittenhouse operation, if only temporarily, and had gotten just a small taste of the true ugliness they constituted. Therefore, it was no surprise that Lucy's story had Jiya brimming with empathy for her friend, but also clamoring in fear at what would have happened to herself if she hadn't escaped their clutches and stolen back the lifeboat.

Then there was Wyatt. Brave, good-hearted, hot-headed, self-loathing Wyatt, who reacted exactly how Lucy expected. Every twitch and contortion of his features suggested an internal emotional battle that was taking place before her eyes, as he vacillated uncontrollably between heartbreak for Lucy's suffering and anger towards himself for being unable to stop it. She almost smiled in spite of herself as she watched him, knowing he was predictable as always, even with all of the recent complications to their relationship. He always thought of it as his responsibility to protect her, no matter what. 

Finally, Flynn. His was the only expression she hadn't been able to anticipate. She had expected a withdrawn, guarded, however genuinely sensitive reaction. And yet, that was not what she found staring back at her. There was sympathy to be sure, signs of which were clearly splayed across his taut face as he pursed his lips in an expression that could only be described as a combination of compassion, awe, and most importantly, respect. While he lamented all that she’d been through, he found himself unable to dwell on how she had been broken. Instead, he marveled at her strength, amazed by her sheer force of will which had helped her come out on the other side of her ordeal. How she had never stopped fighting, not for a second. However, he could also understand the toll it had taken on her. Could see how everything with Rittenhouse, her mother, and Wyatt had caused her retreat into herself, unable to truly trust anything to hold her up when she was about to collapse.

Out of everyone, the two of them knew the monstrosity of Rittenhouse most intimately, their lives both inextricably entangled in their web, no matter how much they ran from it. Albeit for entirely different reasons, the outcome was still the same. Each of them had learned to rely on oneself above all else, feeling there was no one else they could really, truly depend on.

He wanted to be that for her. The one she came to when the darkness became too much. To be her crutch when her legs could no longer support her, when the weight of the world suddenly became a burden too heavy to bear alone. He wanted to be everything she needed and more but had no idea if that was what she needed, or wanted.  

As it stood, no one knew what to do for her. No one knew how to help her. 

No one, except a certain homeland security agent, and a mother of two. 

To Lucy's eternal surprise, as well as everyone else, it was none other than Denise Christopher who slowly approached her, coming just within her purview before kneeling at her side.

Although she was usually the most stoic and collected of the whole group, Denise now looked more like the person Lucy saw when she met the older woman’s family nearly a year ago. The kind, sensitive, down to Earth Denise who valued her loved ones above all else, who wanted to show Lucy that she too had a life outside all of this. It was the expression of a mother who would do anything to protect her children coexisting with the steeliness of a leader who would stop at nothing to protect her team. That was the person she saw exposed in Denise’s warm brown eyes as she tentatively took Lucy’s small hand in her own.

“Lucy.” She began in a gentle voice. “I want you to listen to me very carefully.”

Lucy tensed, wondering at all the things that might come out of Denise’s mouth. Would she simply comfort her? Would she propose to remove her from the bunker as a strategic precaution, thinking she was a danger? Or even worse, would she agree with Future Lucy’s plan, and want her to go back to Rittenhouse? At this point Lucy was used to preparing for the worst, having grown tired of being surprised. However, this time she could count on the person who held her life in their hands, even if she didn’t fully know it yet. Denise Christopher was not of the same vein as Carol Preston and had no intentions of disappointing Lucy in the same way Carol had time and time again. She was determined to be the mother Lucy would never have, but the one she so desperately needed.

“Lucy you are never going back to those people.” She began sternly. “You are under no circumstances to ever, _ever,_ consider sacrificing yourself. It will never come to that. As long as we have the team, we will always keep fighting. So, we will find another way. Do you understand me?” She asked, adding a touch of her signature authority to her voice as she searched Lucy’s watery eyes imploringly.

Lucy could only nod in grateful assent as the conviction in the other woman’s voice took her breath away. Then, before Denise could think better of it, she reached forward and pulled Lucy into a comforting embrace. And before Lucy knew it, she was crying. Crying in what could only be described as sheer relief and gratitude for the people around her, for the fact that she had managed to find her way back to the place where she belonged with the people she loved.

They stayed like that for a while, everyone else quietly leaving the common area to give them some space as Lucy released the last of her grief while sobbing into Denise’s shoulder.

She was almost embarrassed, seeing as she was never much one to cry in private, let alone in front of the entire team. But somehow, she wasn’t ashamed, perhaps because she simply didn’t have the energy to be anymore, but also because she knew inherently that nobody would judge her. She didn’t have to worry about being under a microscope here, she reminded herself. No one was going to criticize her, to scrutinize her for every wrong move or impertinent response. That was Rittenhouse, this was her family, and she would never hold anything back from them again.

The rest of the day passed in something of a muted, gloomy daze. She thanked Denise profusely before deciding that she needed some time to herself. Time to process and really sift through everything she had just revealed, finally allowing herself to sit with her feelings and let them ruminate after ignoring them for so long. So, she did, as she quietly headed back to her and Jiya’s bunk to begin the process of healing.

Jiya was sympathetic as always, offering to give Lucy space when she needed it. Truth be told, they were all trying to give her some space. She had become so withdrawn after telling her story that they were all unsure if outright affection was what she wanted from them. 

However, after a day or so of this, Lucy came to the conclusion that enough was enough. Being by herself wasn’t making her feel any less miserable than before, quite the opposite in fact. She knew that being alone all the time wasn’t going to help her move on, and realized that she needed to break out of her old defense patterns if she was ever going to open up in a truly meaningful way.

It was with this in mind that she tiptoed down the hall late at night in the following evening, feeling a strange rush of déjà vu coupled with the familiar nervousness that always bubbled up whenever she came to his door.  

This time there was no vodka bottle dangling from her fingers. Just a worn, leather-bound journal that had linked them across time and space for a reason that was becoming ever clearer to her. 

Really, she had no excuse for why she had come other than the simple reason that she wanted to be there. And while she was somewhat scared of what that really meant, she also found herself oddly content and even a little curious about what could come from reaching out to the one person she had pushed away for so long. The person she now sought out above all others.

She rapped on the metal a few times, not even sure he would be awake to answer, although she had a feeling he was. The only other person who had a harder time sleeping than her was him, nightmares chasing them both in circles into the early hours of the morning.

Suddenly the door swung open with an audible creak, and there he was. His dark hair was mussed from sleep and his eyes were still groggy, but the moment he realized it was her they sparked to life.

“Lucy.” Flynn breathed, his lips curving pleasantly around the sound of her name. “What are you doing here?”

He was surprised, if not ecstatic, to see her standing on the other side of his door. Not Wyatt’s. Not Rufus’. _His._ It didn’t even matter that it was sometime close to two in the morning. His room was open to her night or day, rain or shine. He just hoped she knew it. Knew that all he wanted to do was be there for her, possibly even be something more, that is, if she’d have him.

She looked up at him bashfully through her eyelashes, studying the evident relief and shock in the sagging of his features as he eyed her expectantly. She could tell by his relaxed posture and the affectionate expression on his face that he was completely open to her in this moment. No more walls, no more barriers, just the total honest sincerity that had always characterized their relationship, even from the beginning. And it was about time, she realized, that she started acting the same way.

She finally lifted her face to his, all traces of doubt vanishing as she looked directly into his eyes before quietly admitting, “I don’t want to be alone anymore.”

But that wasn’t the whole truth, because what she really yearned to say was, _I want to be with you._

His green eyes were impossibly tender and intense at the same time in a characteristically Garcia Flynn sort of way, as if he could read between the lines of what she had said, and subsequently the ever present tightness in his chest was starting to slowly unravel just by the sound of her voice. 

“So don’t be.” He said softly, and it almost sounded more like a plea than a suggestion.

She hardly needed more of an invitation than that. Within moments her arms had closed around his waist as she buried her face in his chest, savoring in the warmth of him pressed against her.

It felt so good to lean on someone without worrying that they would let you fall. Or more specifically, it felt good to lean on him, and to give into whatever this was. 

Unlike his first embrace with her future self, his arms now closed around Lucy without hesitation, both exhaling contentedly in the others grasp as he leaned down to place a chaste kiss against her forehead. It was like a puzzle piece finally shifting into place, like the world had righted itself after being terribly out of balance for so long. Somehow, in the arms of Garcia Flynn, she felt the most at peace she had in a very long time. She felt impossibly _right._

And it was with a start that she realized there was nowhere else she’d rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aghhhh Garcy feels. I felt like after the last two chapters that you guys deserved a chapter with a so called “happy ending”, but it’s not the end! At least, I don’t think it is. Should I keep going? I have a lot more ideas to put into play that go beyond emotional/comfort and more towards like an actual plot extension of the would be season three. Let me know what you guys think. Also, I know y’all aren’t all Garcy shippers so if you want a Lyatt story feel free to check out my other fic “Choices”. It only has one chapter so far but will eventually evolve into a season 1 themed Lyatt fic. :)


End file.
